The Dirty Jobs
by cassibill
Summary: Picks up from "Maltese Falcon", Nate has his plan and they have theirs. How will they function without him and how will they get him back? The honest man became a thief, but when did the theives become honest? Rating it T, might have to change it later.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Echoes in My Head

The helicopter continued to rise, even if most of its passengers felt a weight so heavy, it was crushing them. Nate may have been trapped by Sterling, but each one was trapped in their own thoughts. He had been the Nathan Ford they had come back for and he'd sacrificed himself to protect them. They had all been a little shaken by his speech when he sent them away, but his actions left them reeling. Gone was the chess master, guiding his pieces around the board, always protecting the king, the weakest piece, but the most important. In his place was the father, standing in the doorway, barring the evils of the world from the threshold with his bare hands if necessary. What did this mean ? Who were they now? What were they going to do?

Hardison stared at his hands, the hands that had helped Nate do this without hesitation. Nate said to and he had without a second thought. He should known something wrong when he was asked to destroy evidence _against _a mark. He almost didn't hear his phone over the roar of his own guilt. He pulled it out on instinct and eagerly placed it to his ear when he saw it was notifying him Agent Nivens was making a call.

"Yes, dispatch, I need an ambulance for a suspect. It needs to be escorted and have a team at the hospital for security. He's been shot. His name in Nathan Ford."

Hardison nearly dropped the phone. Eliot had caught the hacker's reaction to the call. The girls had both been too shaken to notice.

"What happened?"

"That...that was Agent Niven's phone...She was calling an ambulance. Nate's been shot."

"Dammit," Eliot swore, punching the side of the chopper, "I didn't seen a hole or blood. I thought he had cracked a rib either getting worked over by Kadjic's goons or he'd hit the side of the frame when we locked the bridge."

Sophie had tuned in to the conversation just in time to get sucker punched by the news. She forced the panic aside, preparing to take control like Nate would have wanted, no, want, when all three were drawn in one direction by a whimpered "No, no, no" and a frantic grabbing at the door. Parker was freaking out worse than any of them had even known she was capable of and they had all been present at the Belgrade Fork Incident to some degree.

Hardison leaned forward in his seat to get Parker back in hers, as Eliot reached sideways for her, the two guiding her back in the seat and buckling her in and keeping contact with her just in case. Sophie gently reached for the fidgeting hands with her own. "He'll be fine, Sweetie. You just saw him so it can't be very bad, can it? Sterling needs him. He'll be okay."

Parker continued to try to pull her hands away from Sophie, shrugging away from the arm Eliot had across her shoulders and the dark hand resting on her knee all at once. "No. No, no, no. He jinxed it. He said we were a family. I can't have a family. I can't take care of one. They leave me, one by one, 'til whoever's left hates me for making everyone else leave and abandons me too. It's starting." The broken whisper gave in to gasps and they all started attempting to head off hyperventilating. The cabin was filled with Sophie's gentle words, Eliot's "breathe in, breathe out", and Hardison's fingers rubbing the cotton covered knees. They would never admit it, but they were almost grateful for the distraction as the helicopter continued to the landing zone Sophie had arranged.

Nate smiled as he settled back on the stretcher. "Ahh, morphine." Sterling and Nivens climbed into the ambulance, the Interpol man with his witness in the back and the FBI agent in front to co-ordinate. He had watched his family until they were out of sight. He was sure he would see them again and he trusted them to take care of each other. Eliot had their backs...and fronts, sides...He'd protect them. Sophie would keep them going. She'd have the plan. Hardison would keep them aware of what was happening on this end. He'd keep them connected. And Parker, he sighed, right now she'd give them a welcome distraction, because he knew this had to hurting her. Later, she'd be the driving force in getting him back. He felt a small smile curl his lips as he pictured her stiffening up and ranting about Sterling having "their Nate". She didn't like when she was the one being stole from. He'd see them again and he was almost eager to see Sterling try to stop them.

"You've been shot, arrested, and your team scattered. You must be thinking of Ms. Devereaux, if you are smiling like that."

"Actually, I'm not. Not entirely anyway." No, not scattered, he thought. He made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes.

The helicopter landed and the four stepped out, Sophie pausing a moment to pay the pilot. When the pilot lifted off again and they were alone, Sophie looked at each one a moment, before she continued with her plan. She held out three slips of paper.

"This is the address where we are meeting back in one hour. Do what you need to leave town for few weeks at least. Gather clothes, emergency funds, but be quick and keep it discrete. Eliot, there is a first aid kit over there."

Eliot started toward the red bag, paused a moment before taking Parker by the wrist, and leading he with him.

"Do you need help?" The blond asked a little confused.

"No, darlin', but you need those cuts on your hands taken care of."

She looked down at the palms of her hands at the cuts from the edges of the panels inside the helicopter. "Oh, okay."

Eliot had already laid out the supplies he needed and started on her hands as soon as she held them out. He was efficient and within minutes the cuts and scrapes were bandaged. Then he went to work on himself with Parker doing a few tasks, mostly for her sake, not his. They re-grouped after about ten minutes and Sophie addressed them again. "There are three rented cars downstairs." (Actually, four but she had no business to attend to and Parker wasn't being left alone in this state.) "I'll take Parker and you boys go your own ways. One hour." The men each took a set of keys and a slip with the address before leaving. Sophie turned back to Parker and found her watching with narrowed eyes. "You don't trust me."

Sophie slipped her arm through the blond's and headed for the exit. "I do trust you, sweetie. I just don't want to leave you. I missed you. I'd hear a bird on my window ledge and hoped you had come to visit. You tell me where to go and I'll drive. We can talk." Some of the anger was gone from the intense look Parker was giving her, but she still wasn't convinced yet.

"I wasn't going to go steal Nate. You'd miss me in an hour anyway. I'd need a lot longer than that. I'd have to wait until they fixed him and he'd have to help because I couldn't carry him."

"That's true." Sophie nodded as they reached the car and she released Parker to head for the driver's side. "Where to? I have no idea where your apartment is."

Parker focused on buckling her seat belt. "I don't have one."

"House, then." Parker shook her head. "Motel?" Another shake. Sophie turned more in her seat to look at Parker. "Parker, where do you sleep?"

"Lots of places. Nate's, Elliot's, Hardison's, Tara's once or twice, the empty apartment in Nate's building, a couple storage units in nice weather, the stacks of libraries...what?" Sophie stared a moment at the vagabond in the other seat. "Nothing," Sophie sighed. "Just tell me where to go to get what you need."

"Give me a second to decide." Sophie raised an eyebrow, but started the engine. Parker rattled off directions and Sophie simply followed them.

Eliot shouldered his duffel bag, as he spared a last glance at his apartment. One more stop and he could head to the rendezvous. He exited the stairs one floor below him and knocked on the door. No answer. Not that that surprised him. Two of the people who lived here were out this time of day. The one home was wary and frequently pretended no one was home. "Doña Martin, it's me." He waited for the older woman to answer the door. He smiled when she did. He liked the family. The husband had came to this country, worked hard, bought his wife, small son, and widowed mother to the country, and achieved his dream of citizenship. He fell over dead within the month, the heart that had worked so hard, giving in, leaving his family to struggle on their own.

Carmen, his widow, worked two jobs. She cleaned for various families during the day and an ad agency at night. Hector was a growing boy of fifteen who did whatever jobs he could find for the building super, the tenants, and anyone else who offered. The grandmother took in mending and alterations for a few dollars and something to do. Many neighbor kids had worn play and pageant costumes she'd sewn.

Eliot stepped in when invited and quietly explained what he wanted in Spanish. He wanted Hector to tend to his garden on the roof while he was gone, which wasn't new, but he would be gone for an extended period this time and didn't know when he'd return. He had brought the perishables from his place down in a bag. He explained he didn't want anything wasted and the old woman nodded. The boy could have whatever came ripe in the garden while he was gone and he wanted to leave his mailbox key, so his mail wouldn't pile up, simply sack it up for him until he came back. He thanked her and gave her two hundred dollars bills and her eyes widened. "Es importante a mi, Doña Martin, y el chico es un trabajador bueno." He smiled and promised to check in later by phone. She walked him to the door with a kiss on the cheek and a napkin wrapped pastry in hand. He headed to the address Sophie had given him and wondered where they were headed from the small airstrip.

Hardison was on his way to the airstrip. He had made arrangements for the properties he owned and he'd transferred all computer data to secure servers off-site and wiped the hard drives. Well none of that beginner "delete everything and hope it works" stuff, he initiated a program that wrote over the disk repeatedly, obliterating the previous data underneath. The cops could try all they wanted, but all they were getting was the duplicated contents of all of Youtube.

He'd packed his clothes and a couple laptops for his stay and a few pieces of hardware he didn't want found, his skimmer, the spare ear buds, the usual really. He'd done this before and knew how it worked. They'd get through this, together this time. They weren't going to go their separate ways and hope to get back together or wonder where the others were (or in his case tracking them on-line). Sophie had been pretty easy. Nate had been almost an insult to his skill. He'd gotten a pretty good idea on some of Eliot's activities. He sighed thinking about tracking Parker. He'd gotten a few good ideas where she'd _been_, but he knew she was probably already gone before whatever she'd come for was missed. The girl was a ghost. You never saw her and she haunted him. He had a lot more fun reading about her on-line since meeting her. She was a criminal legend, bordering on mythic, and the things he heard left him laughing. Most thought she was a he with CIA/MI-5 style training and his own version of Q coming up with high-tech super gadgets. Of course, he'd been laughed off the server when he told them about the First David. _That_ no one believed. Then again, he knew the girl and she still had him in shock half the time.

His lips curved in that way that they always did when Parker drifted into his mind. He loved watching her. She was all power and grace. It had fueled more than one vampire slayer fantasy after a late night Buffy-thon.

Chosen One or not, he was her watcher. He carefully kept a file of what he new about her, what he'd figured out, the rumors he found, and was certain she'd throw him off a roof, without a harness, if she knew he'd done it. In the beginning, he thought she'd hid her past to keep it private. Now he knew, she wanted to forget, even to the point she used a different name. Whatever had happened, and part of him dreaded ever finding out, she'd survived and remade herself. The girl was tougher than the steel in the buildings she jumped off of. She was bent, really bent, but not broken. His smile only widened when he pulled up to the airstrip and his eyes fell on the blond sitting on the fence, straddling it, a duffel on the ground below her and Sophie obviously talking to her in gentle tones, her right hand around Parker's ankle, gently stroking the skin under the cuff of her jeans. Yep, definitely bent.

Eliot pulled up a few minutes after Hardison did and he was the one that finally got Parker off the fence. Literally at least, no one was sure where her head was. Sophie shouldn't have been surprised by the hitter's solution. He'd simply set his bag down, braced himself, and opened his arms, a hint of a smile creeping past his poker face. Parker had let out a whoop and propelled herself off of the ten foot fence and into the hitter's embrace. He placed her on the ground, but held her a moment to check that she reopened the cut on her hands climbing the chain link.

The three youngest members of the team looked at their newly returned second in command expectantly. Sophie gazed at them a few moments, seeing how they were, what they were thinking.

"I've had to modify my original plan. Well, extend it really." She felt a pang at Nate's absence. She'd originally planned to simply get them out of the city, and, by then, Nate would have something of his own in play. She glanced at her arm, then gestured at a small private plane. "In twenty minutes, that airplane will take off for Teterboro Airport. We will be on board it. Shortly after we arrive in New Jersey, a charter plane bound for Minnesota will take off with a tour group. Our names are on that list. The aliases Sterling will most likely be looking for anyway. We will not be on it. Instead I have van waiting. It is a long drive from there, but I doubt it's a place Sterling will be looking."

"Where are we going?" Eliot asked the question, but the others faces seconded it.

"The middle of nowhere." Sophie smiled and tipped her head towards the gate. "Come on."


	2. Chapter 2

AN- I've done all the proofing myself. The first chapter and my previous story were lucky enough to have VolceVoice look them over, sadly I didn't have the chance too this time.

*I play a game with myself of picking a fitting line from a song as the title of each chapter. Feel free to guess the song it came from. There might be a prize.

*If you thought Ch. 1 was long, JASADIN, this is over twice that! I went where it took me. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing. Thanks!

Chapter 2- A New Thing is Taking Shape

The short flight between the airstrip and Teterboro was spent mostly in silence. Parker stared out the window and unraveled the gauze Eliot had wrapped the cuts on her hands with. Hardison was configuring the laptop he'd chosen as his new primary to store the recordings from his phone tap and seeing how much of their cover was blown. He'd also sent a worm into the hospital computer that informed him of the additions or changes to Nate's charts via instant message. Eliot and Sophie had spent it in quiet contemplation, one questioning what they could have done differently and the other deciding what was next.

When they touched down, they each shouldered their bags and headed off the plane. Sophie paused at the top of the stairs to figure out which direction they needed to go. She led them to the silver van she had gotten for them.

"Parker, would you?" She gestured to to locked doors. "Eliot, the key is under the mat on the passenger side."

Parker pulled the doors open and tossed her bag in and then started with the bags Sophie had picked up at the airstrip. Hardison was giving this new van harsh looks.

"It's not the van's fault, Hardison. What are you going to name it?"

"I don't know if it deserves one. Y'all just blow it up like poor Lucelle."

"Hardison," Sophie called gently from the passenger seat, "May I see your computer a minute? I need to get a message with a contact."

Hardison looked at her sternly before giving her the laptop. "Eliot, we should get something to eat and pick up some supplies. It is a bit of a drive." She opened a browser window and narrowed her eyes in concentration as she typed an address.

Eliot looked at her a moment, considering. "Which direction we headed?" He started the van after checking that everything and everyone had been settled.

Sophie looked up, thinking a moment, allowing Hardison to see the screen. "Uh, southwest generally." She quickly pulled up a US map in a second tab. "Head out on a line towards Philadelphia and Washington, then go west from Virginia." Eliot looked surprised, but turned out onto the street heading south.

"Sophie, why are you on an airplane freak website?"

She shifted the screen and glared at him. "Getting in touch with a contact. The message board allows a certain...anonymity." She entered a user name and password, suspecting her contact was already waiting once the login was completed. "SuperConnie" preceded to send a private message to the administrator. Titling it "On Vacation", she wrote a few lines about being stressed at work and taking a trip with friends to cool off and suggesting that she'd like to drop by. She hit send and waited a few minutes to refresh the thread. She wasn't surprised to see a reply with a single set of GPS coordinates, a route, a set of times, after dark she noticed, and a note, "Lock the gate". She closed the window and handed the machine back to Hardison.

"Well at least, that worked out. We have a safe house that isn't linked to any of us. Plan B is holding."

Nate was wheeled in the ER with one wrist cuffed to the stretcher and Sterling hovering. Even as the trauma team started stripping him to get to the bullet wound, Sterling continued to make a pest of himself. He set guards and refused to remove the cuff. He hounded the agents searching for the team for updates and leads. When he leaned over the woman examining the wound's shoulder, Nate laughed despite the pain. "You remind me of my mother", he said with a smile.

"Thank you," she replied. Nate focused on her. "You too. Mostly I was talking to him. I remember when I broke my arm after Sean McAlister pushed me off my bike. She stayed with me from the moment she found out, hovering and yelling. The doctor tried to make her leave and she threatened to call _his_ mother."

"How touching." Sterling glanced away to check the locations of the security cameras.

Nate hoped the team had figured out his plan, Eliot and Sophie at least. They could deal with Hardison and Parker, make them understand or keep them from acting out if they couldn't. He would go to the hospital, get treated, testify in court, and then see where he got to from there.

What he wanted, needed really, was for them to get away and lay low until he could get back to them or find a way to communicate. He couldn't help them much but he'd put everything into what he could do.

"Relax, Sterling. They aren't going to break me out of here until after I get this taken care of. It would be too much trouble for Eliot to have to finish the job." He waved at the security cameras and cast a glance at the vent on the opposite wall and lingered just long enough for Sterling to notice. His old friend looked at him for a long moment, then ordered someone to check the security feed and make sure if wasn't being looped.

_That's it, Sterling. Keep looking for them here. Every second you look here, they get that much further away. Misdirection- the thief's oldest friend._

Eliot pulled off in a small town an hour later at a roadside diner. They all ate, knowing they needed to, but none of them had an appetite. The hitter and thief cleared their plates, having been conditioned to eat when they could. Sophie was still worried, but managed to eat something. Hardison simply picked at his plate, but he did finish the glass of orange soda to no one's surprise. Sophie got his meal to go as they paid the check and stepped outside to make a list of what supplies they needed. One list for the grocery and one for the local department store. Eliot took the grocery list and Hardison. Sophie went to the department store with Parker.

Eliot generally enjoyed grocery shopping, but Hardison killed it with his whining. He didn't like the music, or the cold, or the products. Whenever he had to fight to keep from hitting the other man, he simply reminded himself he could be stuck with Parker. That didn't keep him from groaning when Hardison changed several bills into quarters and bought a handful of super balls on the way out. As they loaded the groceries in the van and prepared to meet the girls at the other store, Eliot took a moment to grab Hardison by the shirt and pull him in close with a growl.

"If you or Parker hit me with one of those things, I'll shove it into the first opening I find. I'll let you decide if it's you or the computer I'm referring to."

Hardison looked scandalized and Eliot started the engine and headed for the street.

The local chain store was a few blocks away, but when they arrived Eliot was surprised he hadn't heard Sophie's teeth grinding from the grocery store. Sophie set on a bench, surrounded by supplies, looking world-weary. She kept one eye on Parker and nodded at the men, but didn't move. Parker was eying a miniature merry-go-round with suspicion. She was torn between cracking the coin box just to do it and staying away from the (fake) horses.

The guys started loading the van and Parker slipped into the back and started digging through the groceries. Hardison took over the driving duties with Eliot settling in the back, hoping to doze a while. Sophie forced herself into the passenger seat and settled back into cushion.

"Was it really that bad? It was less than an hour between us dropping you guys off and picking you back up."

Sophie turned to him and fixed him with a dagger-like gaze from behind the fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm never speaking of this again. I'll never go shopping with her again and she's banned from ever going back there. I'm serious. They took a photo and taped it up by the entrance so the greeter has it at hand."

Eliot chuckled from the back. Thankfully, Parker was too engrossed in the combination lock she was picking to notice. Sophie had wisely picked up a dozen locks for the trip. Hardison stared at Sophie a minute, glanced towards the blond in the back, and then refocused on the road toward Washington. "Sorry I asked." He made a mental note to hack the security footage for his own personal collection. "What?" He asked the brunette looking thoughtfully at his GPS. "Can this thing find a liquor store?"

Nate slept most of the time thanks to the narcotics the doctors had put him on. When they took a medical history he'd admitted to the drinking and that he'd had to detox once before. Maybe they could help this time.

Part of him wanted him to suffer. He'd driven Sophie away. He'd let Rand tear at Parker's emotional wounds. He'd put Eliot and Hardison in horrible situations. He needed to pay penance somehow. He'd started compiling lists in his head of things he would do to make it up to them. He owed them a lot.

The rest of the time he spent feigning semi- or unconsciousness and listening to what he could from the guards, doctors, nurses, Nivens, and Sterling when he could. Security was still tight. _Good, they still are expecting for me to be broken out._ He hoped states had been put between him and the team. He quietly waved at the security camera when no one was around, knowing Hardison was likely watching. The waiting was the worst part. Waiting to see if Sterling had managed to catch his team. Waiting for the wound to heal and be moved somewhere to wait to testify. Waiting for withdrawal to start. He hated waiting and waiting in hospitals was the worst.

Hardison's leg of the trip lasted until after midnight. Eliot and Parker both had done that freaky "sleep, but not really" thing they did on long jobs. Even Sophie slept for an hour or so. When he reached to edge of of the city, he pulled over at a mini-mart for gas and much needed bathroom breaks.

The team gathered in the back for an update on Nate. They had tried to keep him out of their minds so they could function, but each one needed to know. Hardison pulled up the patient files.

"Through and through, missed anything major. They sewed it up. Took a butt-load of stitches to do it. They're giving him whole blood, platelets, clotting agents, antibiotics, and pain killers. I'm going to have to double check the security cameras, but Sterling has the place on lock-down best I can tell. I'm gonna review the footage and the calls logged from our unknowing agent on the inside's phone."

Eliot growled. "I hate leaving a man behind. He's got a plan, but I still don't like it."

Parker sat quietly in the corner sulking. "I want Nate. He's our Nate. Sterling can't have him."

"I don't like it either," Sophie said gently. She'd tried explaining things to Parker earlier, but maybe they needed to talk as a group. "But we have to accept it and do this. Nate made a deal and he has to go through with it. He forced Sterling to accept it. The only way for Sterling to make his case and put Kadjic and Culpepper jail is for Nate to testify. If Nate helps them, they won't really punish him. A token bit of jail time, at most, unless Sterling can find something else to charge him with. If Nate doesn't testify, there is no case and Sterling will come after him, but if he does testify, they go to jail and Sterling will go away for a while.

"What we need to do now is keep our heads down and watch what is happening with Nate from a distance. Right now Sterling wants us to give him leverage over Nate. We can't let that happen. We are going to lay low and stay off Sterling's radar as best we can. If it looks like Nate needs us, I'll be the first one packing, but he's safer alone at the moment, as painful as it is."

Everyone looked thoughtful a moment. Eliot glanced at them. "I don't like it, but we don't have a lot of options. Kadjic is a threat to us if he's out. This is was Nate wants. His plan is for us to stay away from Sterling while he does this and Sophie's got one to keep us hidden. Until either of those go south, I'm for 'em." He moved to take over the driving duties again. "What direction we headin' in. Soph?"

Sophie broke from studying the two thieves that remained in the back of the van to give Eliot directions. "Go west through Virginia and West Virginia. Let me know when we reach the state line."

Eliot gave her a questioning look, but started the engine. He'd said his piece. He was laying low like Nate wanted and was staying with Sophie. He just hoped the other two made protecting them easy for him and agreed.

Hardison looked between Eliot and Sophie a moment. "That makes sense and like y'all say it sucks, but it makes sense. I'm in. If you need somethin', I'm gonna be keeping on top of things with Nate." He briefly brushed Parker's shoulder and turned by to his computer.

Sophie turned her full attention to the unpredictable thief. She was toying with the bandages on her hands again. "This is what Nate wants? Us to hid and let him make a deal with Sterling?"

Sophie reached for a slender wrist. "Of course, Sweetie. We wouldn't leave him for any other reason, if he didn't think it was for the best. He wants us safe so he can do the things he needs to without worrying about us."

"Okay, but if he needs us..."

"We'll go back and I will let you and Eliot do whatever you want to anyone that tries to stop us. Right now, we wait."

"Sophie." A low whisper from Eliot and a gentle shake roused the grifter on a deserted side road fifteen miles into Kentucky.

"What?" She looked around the secluded woods on either side of the van, clearly visible in daylight.

"You said let you know when we left West Virginia. What's next?"

"I need to get the directions to our safe house off the computer. I was told to arrive after dark so we will have to wait it out somewhere." The rumble from the napping hacker's stomach, caused a smile. "Finding something to eat and a place to shower would be lovely."

"Alright, you do that and I'm going to walk a bit to stretch my legs." Eliot got out of the van and started stretching.

Sophie stretched a moment and winced at her stiff neck and aching muscles. A few aspirin were certainly on the menu. She slipped into the back and gently moved the laptop enough to access it without waking the dark man. It was easy enough to print a copy. She'd be sure to destroy it later.

The directions started at specific spot. Entering it in the GPS took a few moments and the directions were unsurprisingly specific and clear the rest of the way. She'd only been in sporadic touch with her friend in the few years since they met, but directness was never absent from the conversation. There had be no idle chat in reply to Sophie's message. There hadn't even been an actual agreement to Sophie's visit with friends in tow. The message consisted simply of instructions of how to get there, when to get there, and what to do when they got there and the woman was certain there wasn't a single extra word among them. The cottage was no doubt exactly as it was described.

Sophie let herself out of the van after checking that Hardison was still asleep. Parker was curled up in the corner on the pile of duffel bags. Her eyes were closed, but the older woman knew better than to think she was completely asleep. Eliot was coming back towards the van at a jog. It looked like he'd taken a short run while out. She simply leaned back against the van as Eliot came to a stop and reached for the bottle of water he'd placed on the hood when he'd got out.

"We set to go?"

The brunette nodded. "I set the GPS. We can find places to stop along the way."

The man straightened up and put the lid back on the bottle. "Do you mind at least telling me what to expect? I doubt Sterling will look for us here in coal country, but you can never be too prepared."

Sophie sighed and took a minute to decide what to tell him.

"A few years before Nate found me in Chicago, I was working on a mark who owned a small software company. The scam involved me as a broker of sorts. I told him I was trying to find independent programmers and act a sort of agent or manager. I would take care of the business ends for them and they would be left with just the actual technical aspects. I would then find larger companies to distribute the product. His small firm was based out of Cleveland

"Naturally, I arranged to meet him at a computer expo in Cincinnati. They had showcases and competitions for software from high school students and adults."

"He figured you were there looking for talent and never gave a second thought."

"Exactly. There was some very good work entered and I showed interest in several to keep up appearances. I spent an hour or two with each one and used the information they gave me to help draw in the mark. No one suspected a thing. At least I thought they didn't.

"I had slipped into the ladies' room to touch up my make up and, at first, I was by myself. Then one of the programmers came in. She'd spilled coffee on herself and was trying to ward off a stain. We chatted a few moments and she headed to the door, but didn't leave. She locked it."

"She figured you out. That there was no agency and wanted to warn you off."

"She figured more than that out. She'd figured out I was hiding my accent and, from that, I was up to something and had worked out the rest. I was certain I was blown. Then she told me he'd been hounding her to work for him full time and he wasn't taking no as an answer. She wrote code as a hobby, not as a profession and intended it to stay that way. If I was going to hurt him, she was all for it and just wanted a front row seat. She'd even help, but she didn't lie, period. However, she had no problem giving people enough truth for them to supply their own lies. She said it was better that way, more believable."

Eliot nodded his head at the statement. People would question what they were told but rarely their own conclusions.

"I ended up getting a very nice check from him, more than I'd even thought I would. I made sure he signed it at her display. Later, I came back after it was closed to the public and we chatted while she broke down her booth. I gave her some cash as a thank you. She told me I'd made a friend. She told me how I could get in touch with her with little chance of being traced and that if I ever needed to lay low, she knew a place. I drop her a short note from time to time."

"Now you've called in that offer. What exactly is it?"

"The family farm is here in coal country as you put it. She was only in Ohio for the expo. It consists of a few hundred acres up here in the foothills. Back a lane, in some trees, is...what did she call it... "the weaning shack"? It's a cottage..."

"...that the old families had on the family farm for young couples. The son would get married and he'd move into it with the new bride. They had a separate household, but the family was close by if they needed it and they could save up for their own place."

Sophie smiled at him. He inclined his head. "It was fairly common out here a hundred years ago. Most of the time, the old families are gone from the old place or the kids aren't interested."

"Well Mr. Spencer, is that your fun fact for the day?" She laughed. "They are one of the few who stayed and one of the oldest. It isn't very big, a kitchen, bathroom, sitting room, and a bedroom on the first floor and the second story is mostly open except for a closet I think she said. It was for the kids. It is kept up, but other than the occasional large family gathering, no one had really used it since her uncle moved into it in the sixties when he was first married. It sets back from the road a good distance and it blocked by trees. Once we get there, no one will see us. It isn't connected to any of us and we can regroup."

Eliot reached for the door of the van. "Well let's see if we can find someplace to eat then. Hardison is loud when he's hungry."

Nate awoke to a nurse coming in with a tray. "Does the noise bother you?" She waved towards the machines at his bedside. "Some of our guests have trouble sleeping because of it."

He offered the woman a smile. Waving a hand at the morphine pump, he assured her he slept fine. "Besides I'm used noise in the morning."

"Oh! Do you have children?"

"No, he has thieves." Sterling's voice came from the doorway. Agent Nivens was right behind him. "I'm sure if he can enjoy his morning coffee while listening to a man giving a play by play of a bar brawl from the night before while someone is hacking the Department of Defense on his TV and a lunatic is assembling bombs on his coffee table, this shouldn't phase him a bit." The nurse looked horrified. Nate just felt angry. They broke laws but that wasn't them.

"More like tuning out Hardison recapping some show called "Doctor Torch" or something and Parker yelling at cartoon characters and throwing Lucky Charms at the screen when they don't listen her, while Eliot cooks breakfast. Yes, they're thieves, but that's not all they are. Now excuse me, these eggs aren't exactly one of Eliot's omelets, but I'm hungry so it will do."

Sterling just settled into a chair as Nivens went to check on security. The nurse busied herself with his chart and bandages. Sterling watched Nate as the wounded man hurried through his breakfast hoping to finish it before he accidentally tasted it. "You seem testy, Nate. You aren't actually disappointed that a manic hasn't appeared on your window ledge."

Nate gave him a dark look over the top of his orange juice. "You are, aren't you? You actually miss that pack of criminals. I can almost understand missing Ms. Devereaux, but the other three... One has a trail of broken bodies crossing six continents. Another has been on the international wanted list since before he could vote. And Parker... she's insane. She ran full speed and jumped from the roof of a skyscraper with nothing but her grip on a safety harness keeping her from being splattered on the pavement. I was there!"

Nate leaned back and smiled. Eliot holding a confused Parker's door and the angry look on his face when the gentleman realized she'd never been treated like a lady and didn't know how to be one because of it. A mug reading "World's Greatest Boss" with a bow on the handle "acquired" by Parker for him on Bosses' Day. Hardison asking him about chess and trying a few games.

"That's your flaw, Sterling. It's the reason I was always better than you. You hunt criminals. I hunt people."

They had stopped at another roadside diner and later a motel for a shower and a little actual sleep. Sophie had quietly calculated that at this rate they would arrive at their destination about two hours after the "window" opened.

They were about an hour away from the town that marked the beginning of the directions she'd been given. She'd breathe a lot easier after they got there. They'd come up with a new plan once they settled in and some of the burden would be lifted from her shoulders. They would relax a while and clear their heads before they rejoined Nate.

Hardison's voice came up from the back. "Guys, I did some tinkering with the program I put in Agent Nivens phone. I think I've got it so I can send it from her phone to anyone she calls. I'm not doin' ever'body, but I think a few more taps would be a good thing."

"Do Sterling." Parker called from the floor where she was playing some sort of game with Hardison's super balls.

"When she calls him, I will. Goin' to do the prosecutors too. Anybody got suggestions?"

"Just let us know who she's calling and we'll decide." Eliot called back.

"I can do that. Where we going, Sophie? Inquiring minds want to know."

"A friend of mine is letting us use a little, out-of-the-way cottage on the family farm."

The reaction was instantaneous. "Nuh-uh! I ain't going Amish. At least, prisons got computers and TV!"

Parker froze and whispered. "Are there horses?"

Eliot laughed at Hardison's face in the mirror. "They met at some computer thing so I think you're good, you geek."

"Just because I like progress..."

Parker's voice cut him off. "Sophie, are there horses?"

Sophie grimaced in the fading light. "I'm sorry, Parker. I forgot."

"I don't like this. Sterling has Nate and there are horses." The pout in her tone had Eliot biting his lip to suppress the laughter.

"I'll protect you." Hardison offered and Eliot had to laugh out loud.

They arrived in town just after dark, stopping for dinner, and then following the directions Sophie'd been given. They left the highway outside of town and began a path that was taking them along deserted roads that winded through the ridges. There were no other cars and the few houses they saw were only brief glimpses at a distance.

"This is freaky man, like out "Tremors". Just nobody out here. We seen like three cows and a skunk."

Eliot nodded at the thoughtfulness of the directions. "Yep, the last people that saw us were on the main road and we were headed out of town. Nobody saw us turn off and nobody's seen a strange car. People in places like this notice strangers." A slight glow ahead warning of a house caused them to slow and check their route. They nearly missed the turn that took them down an old logging path. A few sharp turns and they were back on a road that was equally sharp coming down a ridge. They turned, crossed a bridge and started up the side of another ridge.

"We're almost there." Sophie held up the paper in her hand. "There is a black gate after a large hickory tree on our left. We go through the gate, all the way back. Oh, and we need to lock the gate behind us." Hardison and Parker leaned forward from the rear, helping to watch for their turn. The road continued up the steep path.

"We supposed to find one tree in the dark? That's crazy." The road continued to the crest before leveling out. Before them lay fields on either side with woods rising in the distance. A single massive, gnarled tree rose on the left, just before a white board fence began.

Parker looked at Eliot. "Do you know what a hickory tree looks like?"

Eliot stopped at the foot of the tree and leaned out a moment before starting again. "Yep those are hickory hulls laying on the ground. It's very distinctive." The white fence was broken by a single dark metal gate a few hundred yards past the tree. "Hardison, open it."

The hacker grumbled but slipped out the back and pulled the gate open for the van to pass. He closed it before going back to the van and hopping in. The lane was straight until wound through a patch of evergreens.

"Natural windbreak and blocks the view from the road." Eliot nodded at the spruce as they passed. A gate stood open and beyond it sat a small house and a few sheds. He parked just inside the gate and pulled it closed when he got out. Holding a hand up at the others, he started up the steps. Looking around a moment, he tried the knob and found the door unlocked. He peered inside a moment and flipped a light on. A key and a note sat on the old table in the kitchen. He waved them in and continued looking around. One door went out the back. The other doors went to a bedroom, the bathroom, and a pantry. The rest was open, with a couch, a chair, and a few tables making up the living room and a basic kitchen with a table and chairs being the only furnishings. A cross between a ladder and stairs lead to the second floor. He stuck his head up, seeing four twin beds, two chest-of-drawers, and a door that likely lead to a closet. It was old and spartan, but comfortable with an air of disused cleanliness. He liked it.

The others had started looking around for themselves and Eliot moved to the kitchen. He found a roll of paper towels in cabinets and started wiping out the refrigerator and plugging it in. Hardison and Parker started bringing in things from the van. Sophie had found the note and was reading it aloud.

"Sophie, it won't be missed and I'm the only one who comes out this way much. I'll help with supplies. Be by soon."

"It isn't even signed."

"She's the only one who knows we were coming. Why bother? It's not her style. What are we doing for sleeping arrangements?"

Parker fixed Sophie with a blank stare as she brought a bag of food to the table. "Duh, the guys are sleeping upstairs, you get the bedroom, and I call dibs on the pantry. It looks secure enough. Where is the cereal? Maybe some chips?"

No one spoke. They had all gotten used to odd behavior from Parker, but what she was implying hit all of them hard. Eliot clenched his fists around the paper towel he was using to wipe down the counter. Sophie took a deep breath. Hardison lifted his hand to touch her and stopped himself and looked away.

The young man let out a shriek. "Mouse! There's a mouse!" He grabbed Eliot and spun the hitter between him and the threat.

"Really, Hardison. Seriously? Seriously? A bomb you can handle, but a mouse you freak out over."

"I know my history. They wiped out most of Europe. Get rid of it."

"You expect me to just catch it. We'll have to get a trap or something."

"I ain't livin' with that..."

He was cut off by a ginger blur diving behind the fridge and coming up with the mouse in his jaws. The small tomcat stopped to pose for them with his prey. Sophie and Hardison both shifted uncomfortably.

"Good boy, Bird. Take him and go."

The four whirled to face the door. "Hey, Sophie. Got any idea what you need yet?"


	3. Chapter 3

AN- Sorry for the hold up. My mother is starting chemo the 22 and the cord to my laptop died again. (The one before actually caught fire.) Things are crazy here, but here it is, all 24 pages. Thanks to VolceVoice for proof reading it and giving me the emotional boost when I needed it. It means so much.

Chapter 3- The Days and the Miles Back Home to You

Eliot's eyes scrutinized the newcomer for signs of her being a threat. She leaned on the door frame, unmoving. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, even now at night, but something told him she was sizing them up as well. A battered straw hat topped her six foot frame. The work boots and vest that completed the t-shirt and cargo pants look were equally worn.

"You didn't lock the gate. That might have been noticed. I brought extra towels for the bathroom and kitchen both." She gestured towards the canvas bag at her feet.

"You walked here from the main house in the dark?" Eliot asked.

"No."

"I didn't hear an engine."

"Didn't drive."

"Sophie's right about you not saying much. You rode up then."

A nod, "I say what I need to. He sees better in the dark than me."

"You brought a horse!" Parker backed up and put the table between her and the door.

"Half actually."

"How in the hell do you ride half a horse?" Hardison stared at her.

"That's worse than a whole horse!" Parker shook a finger at her.

"You have a mule. It's a cross between a horse and a donkey. It's _half_ horse." Eliot addressed the last towards his younger teammates.

The woman chuckled and nodded. "Marius is out of Ma's Walker mare and a cousin's spotted jack." There was a loud clattering on the wooden porch and she let out an annoyed huff. "Heard your name, didn't you? I wasn't calling you." A dark head appeared behind her and butted her in the back. Parker gave a yelp and ducked into the pantry, closing the door behind her. "See there, you half-ass? You scared somebody. You are a mean thang, aren't you?" Her hands started scratching him gently. He nuzzled a bit at her vest. "You just want sugar, doncha? Yes, you do. I ought to write a fan letter to Domino and let you sign it." _Hmmm, plenty to say to the right species,_ Eliot noted quietly. He moved towards the door and held his hand out. Marius promptly searched it and, finding nothing of interest, went back to the vest. Their host relented and handed a sugar cube from one of the pockets to Eliot who quickly offered it to the mule. "Marius this is..." "Eliot." "Eliot, this is Marius and he has a shameless sweet tooth."

The hitter was admiring the animal. He was finely made and wonderfully filled out, solid but not fat. His sides and legs had splashes of white, probably from his father. If he had inherited the smooth gait of his mother, he was the Mercedes of the mule world. He wore no tack, not even a piece of rope to guide him. "No bridle?"

"Don't need one. We have an agreement."

Sophie, meanwhile, was torn between talking Parker out of the pantry and greeting her friend who was doing her a massive favor. Hardison stood by the pantry door and watched the scene at the front door.

Additional movement on the porch marked the arrival of a shaggy black and white dog. He looked at his owner, the mule, and strangers and was plainly trying to decide what to do. Taking a deep breath, the woman took the mule by the muzzle with her hands and looked him in the face. "You need to go stand by the gate, okay? I ain't givin' you no more sugar. If you break one of these boards, you're the one I'll have haul the replacement out here." She backed him off the porch and stood looking at him firmly until he started grazing near the van.

Eliot couldn't help but watch her walk. It was a very distinctive walk, both the sound and motion. He'd almost call it a limp, but that implied a limit in the movement. This was just a very different range of motion. Both legs rotated noticeably outward, the right one turned almost completely to the right. It caused the right heel to strike the left ankle enough to wear a spot on the boots. She carried her weight on the balls of her feet like a fighter in an easy and natural stance. Either it was a congenital defect or she'd been little when the injury occurred. Either way, it was probably painful.

Returning to the doorway, she looked down at the dog who had been watching the team the way only a herding dog can and sniffing Eliot. "Lighthorse, leave Eliot alone. He's allowed here. They all are. Keep Marius off the porch." She gestured away from the door and made a down motion. He eyed her a moment, but went and lay down by the step, keeping both the mule and the humans in sight. He'd do what he was told, but he kept his options open. The hitter approved.

The woman picked up the canvas bag and walked further inside, following a path that kept her flank protected by the wall. That didn't sit well with the Eliot. It took a lot to ingrain behavior like that into somebody. Those kinds of things were learned and the lessons were painful ones. He knew how he'd gotten those instincts and had seen hints to what had formed them in Parker. No one should have them, at least not in a decent world. She sat the bag on the table, patted Sophie on the shoulder, and, surprisingly, sat on the floor by the pantry door, back to the wall. The movement was graceful, with her left knee raised towards her chest and the right leg flat on the floor, sideways under the other in a way that made his legs ache at the sight. It would be interesting to see her fight and he had no doubt she'd do pretty good.She raised a hand and tapped the door with the knuckles. "I'm sorry about that. He heard his name and came to see me. He's like a little kid sometimes. He doesn't know any better. He just wanted attention and a treat."

"I don't like horses. I saw one kill a clown once."

"I'm not a fan of snakes myself. One got in the house when I was a kid and tried to eat my hamsters. He couldn't get the lid off though and Mom shot him."

"Where is he?"

"He's in the yard and I told the dog to keep him off the porch."

"Oh. What kind of dog?"

"Border Collie, he's really smart and he'll really good at his job."

"He has a job?"

"He's a stock dog. He watches the other animals and keeps them where they belong and protects them. He tries to herd the geese sometimes and that pisses them and him off." She smiled at the mental image.

"He's like Eliot. He takes care of us even when we make him mad. I'm Parker. What's your name?"

"Not sayin' what Ma put on my birth certificate, but they call me Billy." There was movement in the pantry and the door opened. Parker waved from inside and Billy waved back.

"I don't touch. Sophie says that's not normal."

"I ain't big on the touchin' either. If they can touch you, they can hurt you. I'll pass on that. Not big on people really. I like animals. They're honest. They don't hate for no good reason. I have to think hard about likin' a person."

Eliot's hands curled into fists at that. There were times he hated being right. He looked at the familiar blond hair and the dark hair that curled out under a hat brim and knew ugly memories lurked beneath both. _Kindred souls_, he thought. Both were survivors who refused to let something happen to them again. They watched their surroundings, the people, the exits, always seeing, but rarely trusting the world that had made them this way. Parker's eyes always had that wild look about them, desperate, dangerous, and he didn't doubt the mirrored sunglasses and wide brim hat hid the same. They shared scars, but they differed enough that what they held on to and the results had been very different.

"You like Sophie though." Parker pointed out.

"I do. She was honest about being dishonest. That means somethin'. If she'd have lied about what she was doin', I'd have turned her in on the principle of it. The guy needed the lesson she taught him."

Eliot turned back to putting the groceries away, dodging Hardison's computer cord. He was a man that studied people. It was what made him a good retrieval specialist and it came in handy when he grifted. Parker had been in the system. She'd been cast about and damaged by what was meant to protect her. Where this Billy had been traumatized wasn't as clear. He was certain it wasn't home, but he still wondered where and if they'd been punished. He hoped both women had gotten justice, but, in his heart, he doubted it. Where Parker had lacked support of any reasonable sort, Billy had had home if nowhere else to turn to, at least. That simple difference had shaped the defense mechanisms that had formed. He knew Parker well enough to know her ability to disappear and reappear, to be unnoticed and silent, was her defense. She had clung to the fear of being trapped, of having nowhere to go. But Billy had had somewhere to go and had held on to the anger instead. She had had a refuge and would plant her feet and make a stand. The distinctive signs of at least two knives in sheathes and a heavy caliber pistol, Desert Eagle by the look of it, tucked away in easy reach made it clear being the victim was no longer an option. She watched those around her and threats would be met with "extreme prejudice". When danger appeared the slim and agile Parker slipped away like smoke; the tall and muscular Billy became the dominant predator in the room, lethal and merciless. He knew better than to expect either of them to be predictable and setting either one off was dangerous at best. _Expect the unexpected._

"Why are you helping us?", Parker asked quietly. Everyone was listening now.

"Well...sometimes, what is legal and what's right ain't the same. Sophie's mentioned she'd been workin' with some people that helped when the law couldn't or wouldn't. I figure somebody didn't like what you were doin' and you needed somewhere to go. I guess I'm the somewhere. If you guys are goin' to stay in a few days, I'll turn the sheep into the field the lane's in. No one wanders around with them in it. Not for long anyway."

"Why would someone be afraid of sheep? They aren't mean, are they?" Parker's eyes were wide at the idea of another murderous farm animal.

"No, they aren't, maybe a little ornery, but where the sheep go, Bootsy goes. He's not a bad llama exactly, but if you don't show him respect, ask before crossin' the field he's in and such, he's a terror. He can really live up to his name. Otherwise, I can just slip a hay string 'round his neck and lead him anywhere. Not even sure I still need the string. He comes when and where I call him, anyways."

"What is so scary about the name "Bootsy", anyway?" Hardison laughed from a chair, entering something in the laptop.

"He's like me or Lighthorse. What we are _called_ and what we are _named_ aren't the same. We call him Bootsy, because that is what his name means, Little Boots."

"So his name is..." Hardison prompted, curious. The smile he got in return reminded him unpleasantly of Parker and explosives.

Sophie was the one that answered however. "He must be...unpleasant, for you to name him Caligula."

Eliot looked up sharply from surveying the contents of the refrigerator with a cock of his head and a chuckle. "Didn't like 'Attila'?"

"We already had a goat we named that. Tilly doesn't respect boundaries and likes to wreak havoc."

Hardison nervously asked, "Is everything out to kill someone around here?"

Billy cocked her head and peered over the top of her glasses at him, annoyed. She eased something out of her vest and held it in front of her face. "You a stone cold killer, Chi?", she asked the fuzzy, white kitten, who blinked awake in the bright light. Parker leaned closer and Sophie smiled. Eliot couldn't resist giving Hardison a hard time. "Looks awfully dangerous, Hardison. I'd be careful around him." He offered the grocery list to Hardison for his additions.

"That's not cool, man." The hacker glared at the hitter and reached for his bottle of soda.

Billy laughed. "He's utterly vicious." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before offering him to Parker. "Here, hold him. He doesn't bite, not hard anyways." She passed Parker the kitten and moved to get up, headed for the sink.

Parker cuddled him against herself. "What happened to him?" She wiggled the back leg sporting a splint.

Billy glanced back from mixing something. "Got it caught climbing a wicker trash can and broke it when he pulled it over on himself trying to get loose."

Sophie leaned down from her seat to pet him. "But keeping him in your pocket? Certainly unorthodox, don't you think." Hardison had passed her Eliot's grocery list and a pen. A glance showed Eliot had already included her tea and Parker's cereal.

"Ahh, it's a hunting vest, designed to carry dead game. One live kitten isn't a stretch. Ain't like he's the first anyhow. I've been keeping him nearby so he stays out of trouble and sometimes the pocket is easiest. Got a little basket I use most of the time. Got to keep an eye on him, he's a pretty mellow guy, but his sisters are little terrors and they liked roughing him up before this happened. Doty had him by the tail earlier." She was shaking it now. She leaned past Eliot for a paper towel, before heading back to sit on the floor. She offered the kitten bottle to Parker.

The thief looked up, surprised, from where the little furball had been playing with her fingers. "You want me to?"

"If you want; ain't hard. He's not a baby-baby. He eats pretty good." She shook the bottle again. "I mixed his vitamins with a bouillon cube. He won't take it if I offer him formula. Ain't his mama's, I reckon. Chi's picky. Been giving him extra to help heal that leg back." She pulled a paper from a pocket and offered it to Sophie. "That's a map of the whole place. I wouldn't advise goin' into the red areas for long periods. Those are the sheep paddocks. You never know for sure where Boots is."

Sophie laid it on the table and the two men peered at it with her.

"Cemetery!" Hardison choked out. "Why y'all have a cemetery? That's just creepy."

"It's where you put dead people. We've needed one in the last 220 years or so. If you would wander over there, keep the gate shut. I hate havin' to reset headstones. Just stay back from the road and avoid the main house mostly. I'd stay out here in the eve'nin's. Ma's home and either checkin' the stock or tendin' her plants 'til about nine. Stay back from the road. It ain't safe."

She continued at the curious looks. "Well, we've had a few incidents lately. Some boys have been drivin' out though here after dark and shootin' things with a pellet gun, lights, cars, windows... They grazed one of the horses...killed one of the cats.

"Jaden was Chi's brother from last year's litter. Their mama, Fancy, brought Chi and Doty and Ami up to the house the next night and left 'em, wouldn't take them back and brought them back when I took 'em back to the barn myself. I've kept them in the house at night since. She comes for them in the mornin', brings 'em to the steps at dusk. I've been workin' outside so she's been with him most of the day even with him splinted up."

"That why you have the pistol? Figure if they come back and you catch 'em, you'll take care of it. It takes a lot to kill somebody." Eliot fixed her with a gaze.

He was a little surprised when she slipped the pistol out and checked the clip. She glanced at the kitten sucking the bottle Parker held for him and returned the pistol to the holster, before looking back at Eliot. Her sunglasses had slipped again and he saw a pair of very dark gray eyes fixing him with a stare. What he saw in them made him a little nervous if he was willing to admit it.

"I think you're confused. I like the night, the darkness, always have, but now my ears listen for things my head still hears. Big'en screamin' from a pellet in his flank, Fancy's panicked pawin' at the door, beggin' me to bring her little'ens inside, Dutch and Ebby yowlin' and fussin', tryin' to get the litter mate they still slept with at night to get up…" The mad little chuckle she released shook all of them a bit.

"See I understand somethin' those simpletons don't, but they will. In death, is no suffering. It is a release. I want them trapped... I don't them to _**die**_. I want them to _**suffer**_."

_Not anger, rage_, Eliot thought at the feral growl that ended her words. _A lot of rage._

"Worse part, I know who's doin' it. They been doing shit for three years now." That had everyone's attention. "They sat right there in the cafeteria, braggin' and laughin' at the table behind me. The one dumped a bottle of water over my head sayin' I seemed hot under the collar and ran like a damn puss 'cause he's got enough sense to be afraid of me, not enough to leave me the hell alone though. He won't tangle with me directly. Last time, I had a hand print on my face, but I ripped that earring right outta his head. He's trying to hurt me and he's gonna pay."

"Told the damn deputy what I knew. Gave him the pic I took of the one's Blazer that had the imprint of our front gate in it where they side swiped it. How many damn gates you think have our family crest welded on it? Two sets, we made of 'em and the one ain't up yet. It's on my to-do list. There's a horse hurt, a cat dead, and a hole in my bedroom window. I don't have time for these little shit-heads and I don't need the stress. I have enough without idiots in play. Commencement is Saturday, so there's a day of my life I'll never get back, but Ma and Gran wanna see me walk. I want to be rid of the place for good, but no I get to sit through 'Pomp and Circumstance'..." The muttering became quiet and garbled, hands flexing into 'choke-the-life-out-someone' position for a moment. She slumped forward against her leg, breathing hard. She pulled something from her shirt pocket and fussed with it, forcing herself to breathe. The room was silent; the four thieves exchanging looks.

"Sorry, y'll got your problems to deal with; I got mine. I feel better though." She reached beside her and stroked the kitten that had fallen asleep in Parker's lap. She slipped the empty bottle back in her pocket and craned her neck to look at the shopping list that Sophie held loosely in her fingers. "Eggs are easy enough. Got a preference? Brown or white? I'll see what we got up at the house. One of the perks of Ma buying the groceries and Gran cooking is that stuff can disappear and no one really notices. Limits the suspicions at the store. People 'round here notice things. I'll bring the flock up in the mornin' then. You're welcome fer as long you want. I think this is what they call granting lokhay in some places."

She eased the kitten back into her pocket and took the list from Sophie. "I'll see what I can do. Well, I'm headin' home to bed. I've got a wall to work on tomorrow." She went to the door without a backwards glance. There was a whistle outside and then the sound of the gate.

The room was still a moment. Eliot settled into a chair and fixed Sophie with a hard look before speaking. "You're hiding us with a high schooler on the verge of killing somebody? What is goin' on in your head exactly?"

Sophie looked at the other three before focusing on Eliot. "It fit what we needed. This place can't be traced to any of us. Few people will see us. It is remote. We really aren't very far from Nate, a day at most, but far enough. I've got a contact I can trust to help with whatever we need. You three didn't expect this. Why would Sterling? Don't confuse age and maturity."

Eliot said nothing, but his expression let her know he wasn't certain about the situation.

"I like it. Not the part-horse thingy, but Billy is nice and I liked the kitty", Parker offered from the floor. _Leave it to Parker to ignore crazy._

Hardison shrugged. "It's different, but I'm good."

"We're staying then?" Sophie looked at Eliot and waited for him to nod. "Alright then, I'm going to bed." Sophie left the others for the bedroom to start preparing for bed. She reemerged a few moments later with a pillow and a pair of blankets and offered them to Parker, before vanishing again.

While Parker was making up her 'bed', Eliot leaned close to Hardison. "Do whatever you need to keep an eye on Nate and keep our trail covered, but I want to know about our new friend. Keep Sophie out of the loop, would ya?" Hardison nodded and pulled over a fresh bottle of orange soda. Eliot moved to finish arranging the kitchen and tried to decide what he needed to do to be comfortable with the situation.

Sleep came hard for Nate. Even with painkillers, the hospital environment was making slumber elusive. He was a little worried. Sterling hadn't been around as much in the afternoon and Nate hoped it was a ploy to unsettle him and not a genuine lead on the team. He was sure it was a ploy. His team was the best. They weren't just gifted at breaking the law, they were experts at getting away with it. Sophie could hide in plain sight, drop off the world, and still be completely in touch with the situation. This last job proved that and her ability to plan without him. Still, Sterling was right. He missed them.

God help him, he missed them. When the hell had that happened? When did theater fliers and

play books stop reminding him of Sophie and start finding their way home with him on their way to her? When had he converted his under-used kitchen to become Eliot's other arena? When had he stopped minding the orange soda and gummy frogs that Hardison stashed at his place? When had he started keeping extra blankets and towels and cereal around for the nights Parker slept in his apartment and when had he started breathing easier on the nights he knew she was there, because that meant he knew she was safe? When had Hardison's geek tendencies stopped being annoying and became amusing instead? When had he started treating Eliot as leader of the 'junior' team and _**knowing**_ that the gruff hitter would do the job and take care of Parker and Hardison no matter what? When had his life stopped moving in the same direction as Sophie and started moving with her?

If he replayed each moment he'd shared with the four (and he had plenty of time for it), he could see hints and signs. They'd been there as plain as this hand in front of him. Part of him wanted to blame the liquor for blinding him to them, but that was another lie he wasn't going to tell himself anymore. He hadn't wanted to see them. It was that simple. He had wanted everything to be like it was before Sam died. He was everything Jimmy Ford wasn't. He was a faithful and devoted husband and an all-powerful and kind father. He was an honest man among thieves who was in control of himself. Except he wasn't. He wanted to laugh at the irony. At least Sophie accepted that who she was and who she pretended she was weren't the same. When that illusion had started to crack, he'd thrown everything away and destroyed any hope of getting it back. His wife and his job had been the obvious ones. His confidence had been the main one. Four thieves had given him back what his own denials and fate had taken from him. He had a purpose and a family again. Lies had taken those from him once. He wouldn't repeat that mistake. He would cling to the truth and fight for what mattered. He would slay his demons one tiny regret at a time. He'd admitted that they were his family and he'd told Sophie he loved her. Those would be the foundation of what came after this. He made promises to himself for them and he'd keep them this time.

He'd let Eliot flex his other muscles. He'd give him opportunities to use parts of himself other than his fists. Eliot was a man of many talents and Nate would embrace them all.

He'd show Hardison that being a man meant having no one to prove anything to but yourself and that the key to respect was respecting yourself. He'd teach him chess and all the things he'd wanted to do with Sam. Nathan Ford had been a father without a son and Alec Hardison was a son without a father. Nate would fix that because Hardison deserved it, not himself.

He'd never had a daughter, but then again, he was fairly certain Parker never had any kind of a decent father either, one that gave and didn't take and kept his promises. He had a lot of regrets about the team and, barring the mess with Sophie, he'd made the most mistakes with Parker. He'd told Victor Dubenich, Parker was insane. As much as he thought that was true then, he cursed his ignorance now. Parker didn't form her life from insanity and apathy. She formed if from fear, confusion, and a lack of self-worth. She didn't understand people and she'd never found ones she could trust, so she stayed away, besides the only thing she was good for was stealing and no one would miss her if she was gone anyway. At least that was what Nate figured everyone told her and, like the child she was, she believed them. Sophie had had to point out to him when Parker had asked for their help with the trial. She'd seen what he hadn't. He'd congratulated Hardison for winning the trial, but he'd said nothing to Parker for wanting to do what was right, not easy, to begin with. He was a fool. He complemented her on her skills, but never anything else. When he saw her, he'd tell her he'd missed her and that he was proud of Parker, not Parker the thief. He'd build her self-esteem and teach her about people and if he _**ever **_found the people who'd made her this way, he'd _**help**_ Eliot pummel them. A father protects his family from their pasts and themselves. He'd just need to prove that to Parker.

Sophie...he'd made a mess of that so badly, he still was sorting it out. He'd told her he loved her, that he needed her. If he did nothing else, he'd prove that to every single one of her for the rest of his life.

He sighed, settling back on the bed. He was hand-cuffed to a hospital bed, but he felt freer than he had in a while. He closed his eyes to get some sleep. He needed his strength. He had to work his way out of Sterling's grasp and figure out what he was going to do with Sophie. He owed it to his family.

Sophie ran her hand over the soft quilt covering her bed. The comfortable bed felt wrong. Nate was handcuffed to a hospital bed and she was curled up under a down quilt tucked away in the foothills of Kentucky. This was what he wanted, but she didn't have to like it. Even with the plan working, it still felt like Sterling was winning. The team was separated by force and Nate was in custody.

She clung to the knowledge it wouldn't last. They'd be back together eventually. She would take care of the rest of the team, because Nate wanted her to and she needed to, as much for them as for herself. She had missed them. That had surprised her. It had been a long time since she had missed anyone, well besides Nate. At first she had thought she had just been accustomed to them, but it had settled into a dull ache of longing almost as painful as the one for Nate. It hadn't been Nate she came back for. It had been Parker. She'd instructed Tara to keep an eye on Nate mostly, but when when the other woman had called and told her Nate had allowed a mark to reduce their emotionally scarred thief to flight and tears, Sophie had been picking out her travel identity before the call had ended. Only seeing him at gunpoint had kept her from strangling him. The slap had still been extra satisfying.

Of all the men Sophie had known over the years, Nate was the only one who had never given in to her charms completely and had never been driven away no matter how cruel she'd been. She'd bloody shot him and he'd shot her and called them square. The man was absolutely infuriating...and she needed him. She could be herself with him. He gave her the honesty she needed for the convincing roles she played. She knew that the longing she'd used on many marks in the years since meeting Nate had been fueled by him. He'd made her a better thief. When she'd felt like she'd lost too much of herself to be convincing anymore, he'd helped her find the truth the lies needed. He loved the woman she'd protected with the "bodyguard of lies" Churchill had spoke of. For that, she loved the man who pretended he was in control, especially when he wasn't.

Nate had surprised her. She expected the team to need her then. She waited and worried, almost terrified when Tara would call with an update. Parker had kept it together even after being exposed like that. Hardison's magic was flawless as usual, even under pressure his confidence didn't falter. Eliot hadn't complained or hesitated at being relegated to grunt work. Nate had taken down Rand for their client and for Parker. He'd even put a bank robber away as a bonus. The tone Tara had used had told Sophie she finally understood why they did it and she'd felt her eyes well up when the other woman had told her Parker had done a little side job and had given the bank robber's money to the client. They'd been okay without her and they'd grown and she'd missed it. She thought maybe she understood a little of the pain in Nate's voice when he'd missed moments in Sam's life and Maggie would call.

She had to find her place again and try to be Nate at the same time. The task wasn't impossible, but she wasn't going to underestimate it.

Nate had his own plan and that required them to stay free while he put Culpepper and Kadjic away from the witness stand. That meant two things for the team: stay out of sight and wait. She understood. She hated it passionately, but she understood. She would wait until he needed her, again.

Right now Hardison was the easy one. He could do something. He could watch and gather information. He could pull a string or two for Nate and keep them hidden from the world at large. When he started feeling safe and felt he wasn't doing anything for Nate, then he would be a problem. For now, she would encourage him and coax him along as best she could. She had her hands full with Parker and Eliot.

Eliot was feeling like he'd failed Nate. He'd let him get caught and Sophie had been the one to get the four of them out of there, while Tara had taken care of herself. The only things he'd found to do since then was patch up Parker's hands, drive where Sophie said, take care of the food, and brood. He was desperate to protect them from anything he could come up with at this point. Sophie was confident in her choice. This place couldn't be tied to them and they had a solid ally. She couldn't convince Eliot of that. She had to let him decide for himself. She just needed to give him the time he needed to agree with her. The digging she was sure he was having Hardison do and his own would be enough. Billy wasn't hard to like. She was smart, kind, and witty, if you could deal with the temper and stubbornness.

Parker had her worried. The blond was withdrawing back into herself, raising her defenses like they'd been when they met. Sophie was certain she was still shaken from her "psychic" reading and everything with Nate had gotten to her. If she had any doubts she simply needed to recall the panic attack in the helicopter and the cuts and scrapes on the nimble hands from her frantic attempt to...to...to do what exactly?

Sophie still wasn't sure if Parker had been trying to get back to Nate or if she'd been simply trying to run and hide from her own fear, the way she had when Dalton Rand had drug old memories to the surface. Even after she'd gone with the thief to gather her belongings for their escape and taken the drive out here to think on it, the swirling thoughts in the other woman's head were still a mystery. Part of Sophie was pained at Parker's confusion and a very small part of her was wondering if her people-reading skills were getting dull. She'd thought for a moment that the horse on the porch had been too much and had broken something worse in the already broken soul. Thankfully, Billy had gently coaxed Parker out. She'd keep an eye on Parker and watch for opportunities to help her work through what was going on in her head. Keeping her occupied would be the problem right now. Bored Parker was dangerous and unpredictable. It turned her into a bundle of energy. Sophie suspected she wanted to distract herself from the darkness in her own mind. Maybe she could help Hardison listen to recordings of phone conversations for a while at least.

Sophie had been surprised when Billy had talked Parker out of the pantry. She clearly recalled a conversation with her young friend at the expo where she'd professed a lack of people skills, but had glazed over it with a smile and shrug before adding that animals and small children were a different matter, and Parker apparently had joined the list. "The purest souls are the best judges of character. Innocence will always see the lies, even if it can't understand them." That had been the reason Billy had given for her distaste of people. She'd seen through Sophie's lies as if they weren't there and she refused to lie herself. That told the grifter a lot. For a person who had no use for lies to always see them in others had to be a form of torture. She'd liked Sophie anyway, because Sophie had admitted to the lies. She'd liked her enough to hide her and three more internationally wanted felons. She was having enough problems of her own that four counts of aiding and abetting didn't concern her and that worried Sophie a little. The grifter hoped she wasn't making things worse. She'd have ask a few questions if she got Billy alone.

Sophie sighed and rolled onto her side. She missed Nate. He did the planning and she handled the people. It really was a headache doing both. She needed to sleep if she was going to be of any use at all in the morning. She took a deep breath and started going over all her identities in her mind. By the time she'd gotten through the first eight years of her career, she was in a fitful sleep.

Parker folded one of the blankets Sophie had given her to form a pad. She had used her shoes laces to tie the doorknob to a nail. She'd have some warning if someone wanted in. The pantry was a nice size and some light came under the door. It was certainly enough to see by, even without the light, and quite nicer than some of the places she'd spent the night. Placing the pillow at one end of the bottom blanket, she pulled the other up around her shoulders. She was tired, but if she slept much at all, she'd be surprised. Her world was disappearing again, one piece at a time. Every time Sophie promised they'd get Nate back, she heard her first social worker reassuring her that her father would be back for her in a few weeks. He just needed time to do some things and then they'd be a family again. She just needed to wait. She had waited so long, she'd forgotten what she was waiting for.

She was waiting for another broken home, but this one had been hers. She wouldn't come home to her little brother's sticky hands showing off his pictures. Her mother wouldn't be there asking about grades and homework and what she wanted for dessert. She wouldn't splash her brother in the tub when their mother got ready to put them to bed. But the smoke would be there.

The scent of smoke and wind that people feared, that she waited for, would be there. The smoky smell would linger and, late at night, when Daddy came home from work, he'd open her door to peek in on her and she'd smell smoke and the wind and know he was home safe. Aftershave and soap never erased it from his skin. No detergent got it out of his clothes. Nate hadn't even promised to comeback like he had. Everyone else said he would. At least, if she never saw Nate again, he hadn't lied to her. He never lied to her and meant it. She liked that. It made him special. Eliot and Hardison never lied to her either. They were special too.

Eliot protected her. She wasn't used to it, but it was nice. He'd quit telling her that she wasn't right. He just said something wasn't normal, but didn't say _she_ wasn't. It took getting used to. Normally people blamed her for things that were weird. When she'd been confused by him opening the door for her once, he'd been mad, but not at her. Sophie said that he was being a "gentleman" and to let him, but didn't tell her why he was mad or who at, just that it wasn't her. Nate and Hardison did "gentleman" things too sometimes. They opened the door mostly. Sometimes Hardison pulled a chair out for her. That was really strange. She could do that, but she could open doors too, and sometimes faster. Maybe Sophie could explain it again. Eliot cooked too. Sometimes, he let her steal bites when he was working, even after he'd yelled at Hardison for trying to. Even when he was really mad, he'd never threatened her like he did Hardison. He'd never offered to hurt her and she knew he _**could**_ if he wanted to. He'd taught her ways of taking care of herself instead.

Hardison was nice too. It was sort of like having P.J. back. She could play with him and tease him and watch out for him. He did nice things for her like download the specs on safes and security systems and he worried about her. He wanted to do things together like go to museum, but not to see how to break in which was confusing. They were thieves. They stole. Maybe he wanted to pretend to be like people who didn't steal things, like a disguise. A thief can't be a thief if they don't steal. She should pay more attention when he's trying to teach her things. She needed to ask Sophie about explaining she needed to start the lessons over, because she didn't know they were lessons.

It was nice having Sophie back. Sophie was good at explaining things. Most people didn't bother explaining things to her. They just did them and sometimes they hurt, a lot. Sophie hadn't hurt her, ever. Okay, once she sent her to Sterling, but Sophie hadn't meant to and she'd gotten Parker back. Parker had liked being stolen. It was new. She hadn't been on that side of a heist before. Sophie showed Parker lots of new things. Some she didn't like, knocking and using doors. Some she did like, British foods and theatre, but only plays that were really bad. She actually learned from it. If she could figure out what they did wrong, then she might be able to do it right if she had to. It was like reading the articles in the paper about crime. Never make other people's mistakes.

She felt comfortable in the small space. No one had said anything about her sleeping here and Sophie made her comfortable. She'd pocketed the map earlier and studied it by the bare bulb. She'd go exploring tomorrow and wanted to avoid the horses. Just because they weren't all murderous, didn't mean she'd chance it. Finally, she pulled the string on the light and curled up in her bed. She laid there a moment, still, then reached into the bag she had to one side and worked her hand into the bottom compartment. She hesitated only a moment before withdrawing her oldest friend.

She'd needed him more lately, since Rand, since he'd pulled the memories out in the open. She drew deep breathes to force away the scream of the brakes, the wet impact, her own voice pleading for him to get up. Instead she reached deeper into her memory, Daddy carrying her through the building and setting her next to Mommy and gazing down at a red face. _'Look Sweetie. He's so glad to meet you, he got you a present.' _The stuffed bunny being tucked into her arms, cuddling him to her the way her mother had P.J. He was the last of her old family and she meant to keep him close. He was a reminder of the family she had had before and one to keep her new one safe.

Hardison stared at the screen. He finally felt in control for the first time since Lucille… He couldn't think about it. It was too fresh. He'd set up his spare laptop to serve as a passive monitor, keeping his primary free for active work. One passive window displayed the phones he was monitoring, Sterling's, Niven's… Another was set up to alert him to updates made to files, Nate's at the hospital, the cases against Culpepper and Kadjic, everything on the team… The active screen was a little more complicated. Mostly he was checking and repairing their cover. He tweaked identities. He moved funds. He carefully obliterated anything that linked them to their clients. He hid his assets and everything of the team's he knew about. He'd even wiped the trail their GPS had left in the system. He'd set up a set of windows with a quick hid command and configured to not record the history for Eliot's "side job."

So far he'd found pretty basic stuff with a few surprises thrown in. He'd shaken his head at her birth certificate. He'd avoid using a name like that too. Her school records showed she was well behaved, but had been the focus of a lot of bullying and harassing that led to fights, most of which she'd come out on top of, but never throwing the first punch. Her grades were good, really good. She'd been in the gifted program and had gotten a full scholarship to the University of Kentucky. It had been the only school she'd applied to, oddly enough, but dozens had courted her. She had a semester and a half of credits racked up from duel credit and a couple night classes. The local vocational school had issued her certificates for carpentry, small and large engine repair, and welding. She had designed software that had done well in competition. It wasn't his level, but it earned her some cash doing websites for local groups and businesses. She kept an online presence. He'd never admit it, but he'd actually recognized her username on a couple sci-fi sites. Not anything really extraordinary for an eighteen year old or anything to be concerned about.

Financials were squeaky clean. There was a savings account that was nearly as old as she was, a checking account that dated back only six years, a couple of C.D.'s in her name (the largest being set up by her grandmother), a small, well-managed stock portfolio, and a checking account she'd been added to only recently used for household expenses like utilities, groceries, repairs… She did most of her personal spending on copies of old public records, books, and model kits. The only recent activity on her personal account was a purchase at the local pharmacy. He took a peek into the system. Two prescriptions that hadn't been filled in a while and one that he noticed had been filled twice in the last three months. _Explains earlier, Girl's got a lot on her plate. _He browsed her medical records at the local family doctor and hospital. Not much, a couple accidents and a mild, inherited heart arrhythmia she hadn't been taking anything for regularly for over five years was it besides shots and school physicals and well… none of his business really.

The family itself was deeply rooted in the area. Over sixty close relatives were nearby and many of the neighbors were related distantly according to an online family he found. _Explains the old records she got copied. _ The farm they were staying at had belonged to the Carlisle family for as long as it had belonged to any one family, at least in written records. The county history stated it had been the first home settled in the area and it having been used as a church, government office, and marketplace when needed until actual facilities were built. Lots of prominent family members over the years and a couple of second cousins were minor officials still. The bank, inn/restaurant, town and county offices were seated on the four corners of the intersection of Main and Carlisle Streets. There were reunions, births, deaths, and the odd history piece in the local paper's archives. One article had him laughing. He saved that one to share later. The team would like it.

It was weird having Sophie back. She was doing pretty good considering they'd had to leave Nate behind. That had to hurt. She was holding herself together by holding them together. He'd have to check on her later. She'd done good, he acknowledged looking around. This was the last place he'd look for them. He could see the situation from both sides and wasn't going to get between Sophie and Eliot on it. As long as he had his computers and orange soda, he'd be fine. They'd just lay low and wait things out.

Nate was the least in danger of all of them. He had leverage on Sterling and a plan. They were on the run and taking things as they came. Nate always had a plan or six and the hacker missed that. It wasn't as steady with Sophie in charge, but if they couldn't have Nate, she was their best hope. That woman could talk her way into or out of anything and she'd take them along for the ride. Hopefully when they got Nate back, he'd fix things with Sophie. If he didn't, the younger man was sure he could get Eliot and Parker to help him help them.

Eliot was on edge. He'd tidied and fussed over everything inside and had wandered outside to look around. It wasn't his fault Sterling had Nate. He'd offered to get Nate out of there, but Nate said no. The hitter had done what the boss wanted and was taking care of them as driver, cook, medic, any job he could think of really. No one blamed him. He was doing enough blaming for all of them. Hardison would do anything the hitter wanted if it kept him distracted and he was more than willing to take the initiative if he had to.

Parker had scared him earlier. He kept seeing the panic in her eyes and was frustrated that he couldn't do anything about it for the second time in weeks. He hadn't been able to fix Rand for her then and he couldn't get Nate back now. Tara and Nate had shown her Rand was a fake and how he did it. Eliot had fussed over her in his own way and Hardison just felt like an idiot. No wonder she wasn't dating him. She didn't need him. Not the way he needed her anyway.

Footsteps announced Eliot was back. The hacker rubbed his face and pushed his chair back.

"I got what you wanted. I'm gonna catch some sleep. If anything happens, I've got it set to alert my phone. Close the windows on that one," he pointed, "when you're done."

Eliot had organized everything in the house and van and decided to go outside before Hardison figured out he was antsy. The house was well kept and he explored the rest of the area by porch light. Plants surrounded the house and, he'd have to check in better light, but some of them looked like herbs. A fence surrounded the house, a patch meant for a garden, a garage (he'd have to see if he could hide the van inside in daylight), a corn crib, hen house, and a small barn. All of the buildings looked to be empty, but kept up, though any livestock turned into the surrounding field could use the barn for shelter.

He liked the place. It was different from where he'd been raised, but there was a comforting sameness to it. He'd like someplace like this to retire to someday. A house and some acreage to grow his own food, keep some horses, and grow old.

He'd thought Sophie's plan was a sound one until a teenage girl had greeted them. Then, he'd wondered what Sophie was thinking, trusting a kid. He'd even called her on it. He regretted it now. He'd have to make it up to her later. Thinking on it, he'd realized that at that age any one of the team had been capable. He owed Sophie and Billy both the benefit of a doubt. So far, it was working out. They had a place to stay out of sight and a way of being supplied. He'd been in a lot chancier situations.

Nate would approve, he thought. It was almost crazy enough to be one of his plans. The hitter was still pissed that Nate had sacrificed himself. You lose the king and it is checkmate. There had to be another way. Eliot's job was to protect the team and Nate had deliberately put himself in a situation Eliot couldn't help him from. That was just wrong. Why have a hitter and not let him hit? Nate had asked him to take care of the rest of the team and, by damn, he'd do that.

Sophie was doing good for having been dropped in the middle of things. Tara must have been giving her good intel. She'd gotten them out of there, well the ones who _**hadn't**_ hand-cuffed themselves to a railing. She'd even found them a safe house when Nate hadn't come with them. She had to be going crazy between the stress of worrying over Nate and protecting the team. He resolved to pitch in where he could to help. He'd have done it anyway, but he owed her and Eliot Spencer paid his debts.

Hardison was too busy being their eyes and ears to be a problem. He was the only one who wasn't just waiting. He was working, and worrying about Parker. The hitter was sure the hacker was concerned about the thief. The other man had shown plenty of interest in the blond and she returned it to some degree. _Let her figure out how to be around people before she ha__s to figure out how to date, Hardison. _Maybe he needed to drop some hints, oh say the size of Texas, that the hacker needed to go slow. He could keep an eye on Parker. That would be a weight off of Sophie and Hardison both. The things he did for the team…

He was worried too. There, he admitted it. Somewhere he'd started to protect Parker and not just a teammate. He doubled checked her equipment and stayed close in case she needed backup. Now he watched out for her emotionally too. He felt the need to protect her, well, he'd call it innocence, though he suspected that was taken from her too early and too harshly. Whatever was left of it, he'd protect. If part of her still believed in Santa, then he wouldn't tell her otherwise. She hadn't messed herself up. The world had done it and that made him a little angrier at it. His hands clenched in reflex. As much as she frustrated him, he enjoyed her playfulness. Maybe some time together would be good for both of them.

He took a deep breath of the cool, woodsy air and let some of his frustration out with it. He turned back toward the house and slipped inside. Hardison looked up when he entered. He could see Billy's driver's license on the screen. Rising, Hardison said, "I got what you wanted. I'm gonna catch some sleep. If anything happens, I've got it set to alert my phone. Close the windows on that one," gesturing to the computer he'd been using, "when you're done." Eliot nodded and got a bottle of water before taking the vacated seat.

Deciding to start at the beginning, he called up the birth certificate. Her name was as bad as one of Hardison's aliases, he thought, noticing she answered to a form of her middle name. The father's part of the birth record was blank. He closed the window and moved to a birth announcement. Mother, sister, and grandmother under one roof, that's a lot of women. Closing the window, he moved on to the school records. _Smart girl. _He chuckled at the frequency she ended up in the nurse's office after a fall or other accident. _A bit clumsy though._ The smile disappeared when he got to the discipline reports. The bullying had started within a week of kindergarten and had never stopped. Taking or destroying her things, name calling, hitting, they'd done it all. Classmates, older kids, younger kids, and, if he wasn't mistaken, a couple of the staff had all done their share. The vice principal had given her detention in January for running in the hall. The boy she was chasing for dumping a trash can on her had gotten nothing, even though a teacher's aide had _**seen**_ it. _That ain't right._ His hands clenched again. He closed the records before he hit something.

He moved on to the blurb in the paper about her full scholarship to the University of Kentucky. She had smarts and skills, that he knew, but she kept to herself. _Can't blame her._ The police report had him grinding his teeth. She'd done their damn job complete with pictures and a fucking recording of them gloating and the little pricks were still wandering around. Inadmissible in court, chain of evidence, lazy bastards was the real reason. The picture of the blood stained gray horse and the body of the cat, the trails caressing fingers left in bloody fur visible, had him boiling. He memorized names, addresses, and faces before closing the window. He skimmed the financials, but froze at the medical records. _No wonder she's ready to kill at the first sign of a threat, but there's no way I'm letting it get to that. I wonder if Parker would be interested i__n a side job. Call it…rent._


	4. Chapter 4

AN- Thanks to VV for reading this over as always and to you guys for reading. The favoriting and reviews are like sunshine some days.

Chapter 4- Exactly Where I'm Supposed To Be

Nate awoke instantly and stared at the ceiling. A glance at the clock told him dawn was over an hour away and he knew there would be no more sleep. His mind was telling him withdrawal would start soon and he wondered if it would be as bad as last time. His doctor had mentioned giving him something for it, but who knows if it would happen. Sterling might make him suffer.

Perhaps it was better this way. A few hours of peace and a clear head to figure out how to set everything into play could be a blessing. He was certain Sophie had her plan in play by now and he only needed to distract Sterling a little. His old friend was the only one who had a chance of catching them. If he kept Sterling here and off balance, the team would be safe. Hopefully, he could find something that would be of use to them later. A deal or information he could use later to protect the others. As much as it would hurt, he'd rather never see them again, than to lead Sterling to them without something to protect them with.

He'd rather never again watch the greatest actress on earth bomb on stage, than find out who she had to become to get through a prison sentence.

He'd give up evenings with a game on the big screens, trading wisdom and trivia along with the cheers, rather than see that big of a personality put in a cage.

He'd cling to the memory of innocence that resilient, rather than risk it being shattered more than it already had been by one government system.

He'd rather eat his own cooking for the rest of his life, seeing that look of concentration in his mind, than cost the hitter his, because they'd either have to kill or break him to take him.

_** That wasn't an option. He refused to let it become one.**_

He'd already traded immunity for his testimony. He'd be alright in the end, but if he wasn't it wouldn't matter. He'd protected them and he'd go on protecting them as long as he thought he could do something for them. After that-...his silence would be enough.

He wasn't where he was because he didn't have a plan. He was there because he had one. That should had put Sterling on guard, but Nate didn't think he was. That made what he had in mind that much easier.

**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break*

Sophie pulled herself from bed and slipped to the bathroom. On her way back to her room, she made two realizations that startled her. She was wide awake before dawn, without having a job or a sale in her plans, and that she was the only one up. At least, no one else was around and the downstairs was dark.

She grabbed her toiletry bag and selected an outfit that was comfortable, functional, and casual, for her at least. Even after a nice hot shower and getting ready, she was still alone in ore-dawn morning. She looked at the computer Hardison had left running and, as far as she could tell, there was nothing new beyond a vitals check a few hours ago added to Nate's file. She let herself take some comfort in that.

She gazed around the open downstairs, taking a better look after sleep. The furnishings were old, but solid and well made. It was a comfortable and functional space, but it had the air of disuse buildings always had when closed up for long periods. It would serve them well.

She was debating whether or not to attempt a pot of coffee or to wait for Eliot to get up, when she heard an unidentified sound outside. She moved to the window to peek out into the dim light of coming day before deciding whether she needed to wake the hitter. The scraping noise came again and, this time, she saw the cause. Several sheep were trying to reach through the gate to nibble on the higher grass on the other side, causing it rattle on the posts. A larger, brown form stood out in the midst of the flock and Sophie wondered how dangerous the llama really was. A flash of black and white in the corner of her field of vision and the sound of larger hooves brought the grifter out into the yard.

The Bordie moved continuously, watching the flock. The rider moved at a far more sedate pace. Billy appeared almost unmoving on the mule's back. Her arms rested on the top of a basket balanced across the animal's shoulders, her body relaxed on his back. As if by magic, the mule moved toward the gate, working his way through the sheep to the gate.

Sophie uncertainly approached the gate and Billy handed her the weighty basket before climbing to the gate and then the ground on the other side of it.

"How did he know to come here?", the Brit asked, moving to the house.

"Pressure from my legs, the way I center my weight, they tell him where to go and how fast to go there." Billy replied pulling the door open for the other woman.

"Well you certainly make it look easy. How long before you didn't need to use a saddle?" Sophie hoped that the topic of something comfortable would allow her to open doors to something more awkward.

Billy hesitated a moment, suspicious. "I've never used one. He was born here. I've fussed over him since he was a baby. He trusts me. I'd walk somewhere with him leanin' against me and just slip an arm over his shoulders. He got used to either my arm or side pushin' into him from the opposite side when I turned. One day, when he was big enough, I got on him. He was used to the weight and the pressure for the most part. A little practice and I don't have to much more than think of going faster, slower, left, or right, and he's going. Heck of a lot easier. It leaves my hands mostly free and I don't need to take time to saddle him. When I want to go, I'll just call him over and get on. Simple as that. I haven't used my saddle much since unless I'm ridin' one of the others."

"Oh, how many are there?" Sophie asking, hoping she wouldn't get called out for having asked before.

"That I ride with a saddle? Two, mostly his mama. Sometimes I take Big'en out, but he's pretty much retired as a trail horse. Ma taught a couple of my cousins to ride on him though since he's pretty easy-goin'. Besides the three ridin' horses are the team of draft horses, the team of drivin' ponies, Ol' Apple, my Shetland from when I was too little for anythin' else, and a little herd of minis, horses, donkeys, and mules, uhh... seven total, well eight if Vashti dropped her foal and I just ain't noticed."

Sophie doubted that was even possible. The little mare had probably been checked on before breakfast. They likely all had. Sophie was certain she'd been told that Billy checked on the animals and filled empty feed and water containers while her grandmother fixed breakfast. _"They eat 'fore I do."_ Gesturing toward the door, she changed the topic slightly. "No one asked anything about moving the sheep?"

"Ma doesn't know yet and Gran leaves that to me an' Ma. Besides, I've got buildin' projects going in _two_ of the areas they use. Havin' them out here gets them out of my way. I keep reachin' for my bucket of water to mix more mortar and find somebody drank it. I think they do it on purpose, the hooligans." She grumbled, casting an annoyed look in the direction of the sheep outside.

"That certainly would be frustrating." She soothed with a smile.

"Ah, I'm used to it. Big'en likes to eat the chicken feed out of the bucket when I turn my back. The sheep go after the horse feed and drive me, Lighthorse, and the horses nutty. Marius grabbed our ram by the wool on his back and actually tossed him away. Nothing quite gets your attention like flyin' sheep..." She shook her head with amusement. Sophie chuckled a bit herself.

"It certainly would. How are things set for the university?" Another line of inquiry to try.

"Full ride to UK, I'm trying to get a waiver so I can commute instead of having to live in the dorm. I'd go crazy in there. Too many people, too much temptation to smack someone in the head for stupidity. I get enough of that from J.J."

"You expect to see more of your sister then, being in Lexington so much."

"God, I hope not. Did I tell you that, back last winter, she got off her driveway in the yard, buried her car to the axle, then called me to bring the truck pull her out. Of course when a neighbor pulls her out five minutes after she hangs up, she doesn't call and tell me, so I drive in for nothin'. No surprise there. Oughta beat her." Ooops, Sophie'd forgotten the two sisters didn't have much of a relationship.

"At least you're done with school here. That is a good thing, right?" Sophie hoped to put her friend back at ease with the bright side of things.

"Yeah." The smile told Sophie just how glad the other woman was to put the public school experience behind her. Quite simply she had spent thirteen years of mandatory boredom surrounded by people inclined to make her miserable. Her classmates had never been able to function completely at her mental level and her teachers rarely treated her as maturely as she needed to be treated. She'd had no peers, no friends, there and had spurned human company as a result. What social skills she had, she'd let atrophy and hadn't developed any others beyond the theoretical. Reading body language and tone, however, was another story.

Years of preferring animals to people had honed those skills to a razor-fine edge. That had been how she'd caught Sophie. Her body language had been too stiff, controlled, to be natural and the other woman had pieced the rest together. When Sophie had tried to talk her way out of it, the fifteen year old had gazed at her calmly and said simply: "I knew Miss Taylor was pregnant two weeks before she found out on accident from body language alone. You might as well have a neon sign over your head tellin' me you're lyin'." The Brit had been floored and had quietly admitted it. When she'd explained herself, she'd been amazed to find an ally. Sophie had listened to every word Billy had spoken to her mark after that. Not one word had been a lie, but he'd been mislead...by the truth. Sophie had taken something from that. The right facts could be more powerful than any lie.

"It's nice to have things to actually look forward to. Just a few things I need to get squared away before everything changes." Billy became quiet a moment and Sophie suspected her mind had wandered to that later time. Her expression was serious, but happy a moment before shifting again. "Just a few annoyin' loose ends." Her fists clenched. "I got most of the stuff on the list. A few things I need to work on, but I think I got everythin' you'd need for breakfast. We don't much have store bread around, but I brought a loaf from this mornin's batch of Gran's. She's not gonna notice really. I've been known to do in a whole loaf myself." Sophie raised an eyebrow and smiled. "When food disappears, I'm usually the cause anyway. I'll have the rest of the list by tonight. Should hold you a little while. If you guys would decide to make a grocery run yourselves, they'll probably just figure you're campers from one of the parks. Just take the back way into town. There's a little grocery store and a butcher shop there. Wednesday evening and Saturday mornin' there's a farmer's market at the firehouse. There's some stuff this time of year already." She stood to leave and paused a moment. "I almost forgot. I brought this." She fished a door latch out of a cargo pocket. "Thought it might be good for inside the pantry." She jerked head in that direction.

Sophie was confused for a moment, but was more surprised when Parker's voice came out of the pantry. "Thanks."

"No problem. The toolbox is under the sink. Well, I got things to be doin'." She left without another word, disappearing into the growing light.

Sophie gazed at the door a long moment, contemplating the conversation. Behind her, she heard a door open and, an instant later, Parker was on the couch. The thief looked at her expectantly. "What's for breakfast?"

Sophie looked at her with more than a little amusement. Sophie knew that Parker was well aware Sophie's cooking skills were only slightly more developed than Hardison's. Even Nate was more competent in the kitchen than the grifter. No one had dared explore whether Parker had any ability in the kitchen beyond setting the table. Keeping the thief away from silverware and cutlery had been an unspoken and unanimous agreement.

Sophie was hoping the thief wasn't too angry over her "vacation". She took the other woman's company as a sign that there was no lingering resentment, but somehow she suspected that she'd dragged up deeply seated fears of abandonment. She needed to take some time later to make it up to Parker and talk her through everything. She owed her that much. She hadn't even said a proper good-bye.

"Don't even think of trying to cook." Eliot growled from the top of the stairs. He had clothes in the crook of his arm. Reaching the door to the bathroom, he turned back to them. "Give me twenty minutes for a shower and then I'll cook. We're laying low. We don't need you two burning the place down."

Sophie huffed and rolled her eyes at him. She'd missed him. Parker piped up from the couch. "We wouldn't do that. Not on purpose anyway." Eliot chuckled, "I didn't say it'd be on purpose, darlin'." The door closed behind him. Times like this, even with Nate absent, made it hard to remember why she'd left to begin with.

**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break*

Eliot ran a towel over his hair. He'd listened to Sophie's conversation with Billy. He'd woken when the flock had arrived and hadn't immediately gone downstairs, waiting to see what Sophie had gotten out of the young woman instead. Billy seemed to be keeping things to herself and bottling up those kinds of things couldn't be healthy, especially now. Eliot dropped his towel and dirty clothes in the hamper and wondered how they would do laundry. Well, that was a problem for later. Right now, he had ladies waiting for breakfast.

Sophie was sitting at the table with a current newspaper. _Must have been in with the groceries. _He opened the old wooden shopping basket and starting laying things out. It had been well packed and the cold items were still cold. The homemade bread looked good and a jar of blackberry jam had been included with it. Homemade as well, by the look of it. A post it stuck to the top turned out to be a list of other flavors after he worked out the scrawl. He fastened it up on the fridge door for later.

Once it was all spread out, he surveyed it. Everything he needed for breakfast was indeed there. Lots of homemade and local stuff he noticed with approval. The meat came from a local butcher and had been frozen quickly. The milk, he saw and took delight in, was from the family's own cow and had a high cream content even after skimming some off. He mentally tabulated what the cost was of or would be of things and made a note to pay up later. He'd slip her extra for anything she'd had to pick up at the store.

"I'm making pancakes. Do you want sausage or bacon?" He held up the two packages.

"Bacon." Parker was deciding where she wanted the latch to go on the inside of the door to the pantry. She nodded to herself and took the toolbox out and sat it on the table, before riffling around inside.

Eliot put the sausage and the couple other frozen items in the freezer and the bacon in the ancient microwave to defrost. Unneeded items were put away and utensils, containers, and pans were pulled from the storage containers in cupboards and rinsed for use. The bacon went on first in one frying pan. The coffeemaker was hooked up and a teakettle was filled.

"She did pretty good at getting everything quick. I heard you talking, so I stayed upstairs. I was worried I'd come down in the middle of boy talk or somethin'." He chuckled at that thought.

"That's not a likely topic. She doesn't have much of an interest in having a relationship with a man." Eliot quickly hid his surprise and hoped the grifter hadn't seen it.

"She likes girls?-" Parker asked, trying to decide where to place the new latch.

"No. Well, yes. Both really. Though it is never more than a tryst in the closet. I suspect it is more about a release than attraction." The grifter looked both thoughtful and uncomfortable.

"She takes whatever she can get then?" Eliot supplied from the other end of the table.

"Exactly. Her way of acting out when she's stressed. She disappeared three separate times with different partners at the tech expo, in one afternoon. She doesn't speak about it, so I never bring it up and don't even think about it yourselves. I only know what I've pieced together."

Parker was fastening up the latch and stepped inside to try it. She rattled the door a few times before she unlocked it and came back out. She put the toolbox back and grabbed her duffel on the way to the bathroom.

Eliot measured and started mixing the batter and paused. "How'd you reckon she knew to get a latch for Parker?"

Sophie lowered the paper to look at him. "I'm not entirely sure. She might have pieced things together from Parker hiding in there from the horse. She's good at that sort of thing."

Eliot thought a moment and nodded as her resumed mixing. "Makes sense and that was a mule."

"Whatever." Sophie went back to the Entertainment section and the two settled into the silence. It remained that way until Parker emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp.

Eliot was plating the first of the pancakes and taking the bacon from the skillet. "Okay, eggs, how many and how do you want them?"

"Two scrambled", Parker answered, taking the Business section and studying the exchange rates.

"Just one poached", Sophie decided after a moment.

Eliot put a pan of water on to heat for Sophie's and got out a bowl and whisk for Parker's. He reached for the egg carton and smiled when he looked inside. It contained an assortment of eggs. There was a note tucked inside: "I wasn't sure it you preferred brown or white eggs, so I got both. I also thought you might enjoy messing with someone so I added a couple blue and green ones." The hitter grinned. The eggs truly ran the gauntlet of colors, from white to brown and very dark brown with two blue and one green egg. _I bet the chicken coop is an interesting place. _

He saw movement and Parker leaned over to see what he was looking at. "Are they bad? That one is green." Sophie put down her paper to peer over as well.

"There ain't nothing wrong with any of 'em. Different kinds of chicken lay different colors of eggs. Most are either white or brown, but a few are colored."

"Save those for Hardison." Parker smiled dangerously.

Sophie laughed. "That would be funny."

Eliot smirked and nodded. Parker lifted a dark brown and a white egg and examined them. "Do they taste different too?"

"Some say they do, but I think it's because most brown eggs are from chickens that eat grass and bugs and not just grain." Eliot cracked a white egg and set about poaching it for Sophie. The shell was a little tough to crack. They probably weren't over a few days old.

He scooped the finished egg out onto the plate and placed it, along with the finished pancakes, a jar of syrup, and a Tupperware container of butter (both no doubt homemade), on the table. He unwrapped the bread, opened the jam, and pulled a bread knife and a couple of butter knives from a container, along with the needed forks and spoons. He brought the teakettle to the table and poured it into a cup already holding a teabag. Sophie was set.

He pulled a bowl over and reached for the carton of eggs.

"How do you do that?"

He looked up at the blond, watching him intently. "Do what?"

"Break an egg without getting the shell in it."

He looked at her a moment then motioned her to him, deciding she could stand to learn how to cook for herself. When she was standing beside him, he pulled one brown and one white egg from the carton before pushing it away again. "We'll do one of each and you can see if there's any difference." He grabbed a second bowl and placed it in front of her. He placed the white egg in her hand. They tended to be softer shelled and she wouldn't have to hit it as hard and thus lower the odds of getting shell in it. He rapped his egg on the side of the bowl as slowly as he could before emptying it into the bowl in front of him.

Parker watched closely, but looked uncomfortable when it came her turn. Eliot smiled at her gently and reached for her hand. He adjusted her grip slightly and then made the movement to the bowl a few times in slow motion before removing his hand and gently patting her on the shoulder. She took a deep breath and then she went for it. She hit harder than she needed to and some of the white leaked into her hand, but most of it went into the bowl and the shell didn't. He handed her a paper towel and waited. He added milk and seasoning to the egg in his bowl and walked Parker through the same. They stirred in silence with Sophie as a smiling observer.

Eliot transferred the contents of his bowl to the bacon skillet and went to work with Parker watching at his elbow. When his was finished, he put it on a plate and motioned for Parker to take his place. Her technique wasn't as refined, but she was getting the hang of it. It stuck a little, but most of it made it to the plate, carefully separated from the other pile. Sophie applauded from the table. Eliot patted her on the back. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" She shook her head and settled into a chair. Her eyes narrowed as she set about evaluating the two. Sophie couldn't help, but watch over the top of her teacup. Eliot kept glancing back as he made more pancakes and started two eggs frying for himself.

Only when her plate was empty, did Parker look at the other two people. "Nope, they taste the same, except maybe from where mine stuck." She grabbed for the pancakes and poured on the butter and syrup, then pausing she added a little jam to the pile. The thief grabbed a glass from the counter and poured a glass of milk. Her face scrunched up when she tasted it. Eliot laughed. "It's not processed. More fat too. It tastes like milk is supposed to. They must have a cow or two." Parker shrugged and took another sip.

Eliot was almost ready to sit down to his own breakfast when heavy footsteps came from upstairs. _Another mouth to feed._ Alerted by the smell of food, Hardison had woken up, at least long enough to eat and check the computer. When the young man flopped down in a chair, Eliot couldn't help but roll his eyes at Hardison pulling the plate of pancakes to him without really seeing them. The hacker fumbled for syrup and butter and Parker took pity on him and helped.

"You want eggs?" Eliot asked wondering if Hardison was alert enough to respond.

"Yes, Nana, scrambled please." Sophie choked on the bite of bread and jam she'd just taken. Parker grinned in the way Eliot had learned meant "Can I help? Please, please!"

"Alright, Alec." _He was going to have a little fun at least._ He rose from his seat and waved Parker to the stove.

"Thank you. You look pretty today." _Yep,_ the hitter thought,_ I'm going to enjoy this. Besides, Parker could use the practice._

**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break*

Hardison's nose picked up the scent of breakfast and woke up his stomach. His stomach attempted to wake up the rest of him with only partial success. Still he pulled himself out of bed, following the sounds and scents of food down the stairs and falling into the first empty chair he bumped into. The table wasn't as crowded as it normally was, but that was a good thing, more elbow room and less competition. Nana had even offered to make him eggs. Normally if it wasn't on the table, it wasn't on the menu.

The pancakes were amazing and he could hear Nana showing one of the girls how turn them. She sounded hoarse, maybe he should offer to pick up something for her while he was out later. The eggs smelled great and he plowed into them. They were a little crunchy, but the slight taste of bacon was amazing. Nana had added bacon bits just like he liked them. He smiled blissfully the entire meal. Someone must had told a joke because everyone was laughing quietly. He didn't care. He had good food and a soft bed upstairs. He was surrounded by family. What more could he want?

When he was finished, he headed back upstairs, ignoring the snickering. Probably some juvenile prank he was too old for and would be jealous because he didn't come up with first. He stopped to check his computer. No alerts, so nothing to worry about. Whatever he was working on was fine. He was sure it was important, but his sleep addled mind couldn't tell exactly what he was working on. He made his way back to bed, his family just downstairs.

**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break**Break*

Parker smiled at Hardison's back as he made his way up the stairs. Turning back to Eliot and Sophie, she asked: "He liked them right? And they didn't made him blue or sick or anything."

"You did fabulously, Parker. I think you have an assistant, Eliot."

Eliot tilted his head and then nodded. "Best help I've gotten from any of you. Now there's the matter of the dishes..." He looked at Sophie.

"Why are you looking at me? You can load the dishwasher."

"I could, darlin', but there ain't one. Hand wash only. The old rule applies. Parker and I cooked. We don't do the dishes too."

"No, no, I don't do dishes. It's been so long, I doubt I still know how."

Eliot stood up and offered his hand to Sophie. "Don't worry. It's like riding a bike. I'll be right here if you have any questions."

Parker decided to take advantage of the distraction to slip outside. She hadn't been outside much lately and that bothered her. Most people would peg her for an indoor person because she spent most of her time in cities. They were wrong. She loved the heights and the wind. She was on a roof whenever she could or a balcony or a park. She liked the open spaces. They left her lots of room to escape.

She walked around the fenced in area and looked at each building. Not too interesting, but the second story of the barn would give her a chance to test a new rig balance. The sheep had settled into the trees surrounding the yard, munching on the grass, weeds, whatever they could reach really. One was rearing up and eating leaves off a low branch. The llama was snacking right along side of him, though he wasn't straining to reach his meal.

"Boots?" He turned sharply toward her. "Can I call you Boots or do you prefer Bootsy? Is it too soon? Should I call you Mr. Llama?" She held her hand out and leaned across the fence. The dark animal stretched his head toward her and his nostrils flared. He took another step and another. Finally, he reached her. He reached for the offered hand and sniffed. Parker tentatively scratched his face. She reached up with her other hand and patted his neck.

"You aren't mean. You're kind of like Eliot. You just need to get used to people and let them know you're in charge. Can I come over?"

She carefully crossed the fence and the llama simply allowed her to reach for him again. It was nice, relaxing, to pet the animal. After a few minutes, he simply walked away and Parker decided to go up to the main house and started walking.

It wasn't far, but there was a lot of fences to cross. She was tempted to go in the house, but didn't. She could hear music and scraping noises from behind the barn. She took the long way around the house, past a shed, through the garden, past another shed, the garage, skirting the edge of the pond, and up through a maze of small buildings and runs on her way to the the far side of the barn.

A pickup truck was parked facing her. The dark gray paint faded to a much lighter shade. The music came from a laptop sitting on the top of the cab. Billy was working behind it. A steadily growing wall was in front of her. A trowel of mortar, a new block, trim the excess mortar, repeat, an unbroken cycle of movement, punctuated by quiet singing and head bobbing. Parker crept closer.

"Hi, Parker." The thief startled at the greeting.

"How did you know someone was there and that it was me?"

There was a chuckle. "Lighthorse has been watching you since you came into the lot. I knew someone was coming. Had to be someone he'd met or he'd have barked. You four are the only ones with a reason to come the back way. Sophie wouldn't have been that quiet. Eliot would have announced himself. Your other friend wouldn't have come looking for me. I don't know his name. That leaves you by process of elimination."

Parker nodded at the logic. "It's Hardison. What are you doing?"

"Thanks and I kinda figure it's obvious." She waved her hand toward the block and mortar and then the wall.

"I meant why are you building a wall instead of just putting up fence?"

"We had fence here, but the snowplow keeps it buried all winter. The ground gives way. The posts lean over. We had a board fence up by the driveway, but the same thing happened. When it needed replacin', we built a wall and gave ourselves the option to extend it. This part started looking rough, so I decided to put it up before winter."

"But why _now_? There's a building down there," she pointed in the direction she came, "that isn't finished. It just needs a door and the pen just needs a gate. Why'd you stop in the middle?"

"Because stock panels don't stop pellets the way a block wall will." Eliot's voice caused both women to look in his direction. "The horse had to have been back here when they shot him. It's the only paddock by the road the horses use according to your map. Was the cat back here too?"

"Nice deduction. Jaden way laying by that post, on the inside of the fence." She pointed, but didn't look. "Switching out the fence got bumped up the list. I actually haven't quit working on the building. I work while the mortar dries between courses, sometimes."

"You don't have to wait for a row to dry to set another you know." The hitter offered gently.

"I'm filling the wall as I go. If I don't let it breathe, it'll never dry." She poured a little water into the mortar pan to keep it workable after the conversation break. She went back to work. Mortar, block, mortar,...

When she reached for the next block on the bed of the truck, Eliot reached past her and slipped the block in line. She cast an annoyed and questioning look at the hitter from behind her sunglasses as she took the trowel to the extra mortar forced out of the joint. She said nothing, but gazed at the man in a way he didn't seem used to, as if she knew everything about him and was almost bored by it. She laid the next stretch of mortar and he set the next block.

"Where's the little kitty?" Parker was getting bored and the kitten was interesting.

"Chicago's in the cab, in his basket."

Parker reached through the open window and extracted the kitten.

"Odd name", Eliot commented as he set a block in place and reached for another.

"This year is cities." Another layer of mortar spread.

"What is cities?" The next block in the row dropped in place.

"The name theme, it makes keeping track of ages easier. I pick a theme each year and the kittens born here get a name from the theme. The Civil War was last year. That's Stonewall sleeping in the hay bunker." She pointed to a white and orange cat curled up in the hay. "Sheridan is the one washing his leg on the tractor hood." She gestured at a dark orange cat licking intently.

Parker listened with interest. "If Chi is short for Chicago, what are Ami and Doty short for?", she asked remembering Chi's sisters from last night.

"Miami and Appomattox. Don't look at me that way. I've given things stranger names then that, trust me. I've had a Cement and a Slimy. Okay, I was four or five at the time, but still."

Parker laughed, but whether it was from Billy's admission or from Chi's attempts at attacking his own tail, even the thief wasn't sure. She climbed up on top of the toolbox in the truck and tucked the kitten into her lap. Watching Eliot and Billy work was interesting for a little while, then she offered Chi the bit of bacon she'd saved from this morning. He seemed more interested in playing with it or just licking it, than actually eating it.

"I get the reason you're putting up a wall, but why are you building this thing to outlast the pyramids or survive World Wars Three, Four, and Five?" Eliot lifted the block up and guided it down over the two pieces of rebar jutting out of the lower courses. The remainder of the space was packed with sand and gravel.

Trim mortar from the previous block, spread it for the next one, breathe, Billy let herself get lost in it for a minute. "No sense in not doing it right. Besides, that's how we do things. They last." She jerked her head toward the barn.

Eliot looked at it a moment and realized what she meant. The massive wooden structure was built into the side of the hill, reaching four stories at its highest. His eyes fell on one of the pillars supporting the roof through an open door. It was sixteen, maybe eighteen, inches square, probably oak native lumber, and bore the marks of the ax that had hewn it to shape, likely centuries ago. The crossbeam was joined by a wooden peg, cut and trimmed by hand. It had weathered the passage of nearly a thousand seasons and quietly waited for a thousand more. It had been done right and it had lasted. He laughed.

"See your point. I bet driving a nail in there is next to impossible." He set the next block and had to have a little more respect for someone who'd take the time to do things these days.

"I wouldn't know. I use an electric screwdriver on greased screws in a hole pre-drilled with a diamond bit." She laughed at his face. "The oldest parts of that barn and the house were standing when this was part of Virginia and there was not a constitution or a president. The original grant was for Irish James' serving in the Virginia Militia. He came out here after the war with his family. We've been here since. Fact is, _**he's**_ still here. His grave is up yonder in the family cemetery."

"Irish James??" Parker was confused.

"James is a family name. Carlisle is a sept of clan Bruce, a branch of it, and tangled up with the Stewarts, who are cousins. There are a lot of men named James in the family. Well, Seumas in the old tongue. Some ancestor moved to Northern Ireland and one of his descendants came here, hence him being Irish James. James the Elder was his father who stayed. Granddad's great-grandad was also James, good name, solid, respectable, gets a lot of use. You always have to be specific about which one you're talking about. It is part of the old customs. It's like having certain Gaelic phrases at weddings and funerals. There is always one who keeps the customs and history of the family, the stories and the Home Place. Some adhere more than others.

"Mostly it's taking care of the old things and keeping names in the family. Sometimes it's not a good thing. That's how I ended up being named for a great-uncle and Gran's maiden name. 'Course, I've answered to Billy as long as I can recall so it doesn't much matter. Sometimes, I just use the W.W. English first name, German middle name, and a Scottish surname, how random is that?" She rubbed her forehead, leaving behind a smudge of mortar. "Hmmm... Parker can you open the driver's side of that tool box?"

"Sure. What do you want?" Parker scooted to one side and lifted the lid.

"There's an open case of 3 Musketeers. Toss me a couple. I think I'm starting to get a headache from low blood sugar. You can have one if you want." Parker tossed her two and kept one for herself. Billy downed one in seconds and left the second on the tailgate. She resumed applying mortar, hoping to finish the row soon.

Eliot placed the block and turned for another. "When you said that this got bumped up on the list, you meant that. There's an actual list somewhere."

"That legal pad in the truck seat. Nobody could remember it all." Parker reached through the rear window and lifted it out. Each item had a column for the date it was added, how pressing it was, if they had everything they needed, and when it was finished. Some had been split into smaller tasks. Parker shifted her focus back to the pair laying block as they came to a post and had to maneuver the blocks into a square.

The blond looked back at the list. There was a little of everything and some she didn't understand. One caught her eye. "#132- Refasten loose sheet of metal on barn roof."

"Yeah, the hay wagon tore a corner of that sheet there loose back last fall. It's having someone around while I go up there, that's tricky. There's a cap I made to cover the hole where the screw tore out and hold the metal down ready in the toolbox with the sealant and screwdriver. I just never find the time when Ma's around to get the ladder out and do it."

Parker's eyes turned to the low roof and then to the open toolbox. _Why would you need a ladder? I could jump and pull myself up._ She spotted a piece of metal with a small hole in the middle formed to match the bends of the roofing. A tube of roofing sealer and an electric screwdriver lay close by. She looked at them a minute, placed the sleeping kitten back in his basket, and hopped down off the truck. It was only eight feet from the ground and there was a window frame to use as a step. She pulled herself up in a matter of seconds and turned back to see Eliot and Billy watching her. Pointing to a place where the edge stuck up, she asked "Is this it?"

"Well, yeah." Billy looked at her with amusement. "And Ma says _**I**_ climb like a goat."

Eliot was more annoyed. "What are you doing up there?"

"Helping. I take the screw out, put the seal stuff on the patch, and fasten it down with the screw, right?"

"Pretty much." Billy grabbed the items off the top of the toolbox where Parker had left them and handed them up, grateful for the help and unwilling to refuse it. The soon-to-be college student watched for a minute. "Everything else look good up there?"

Parker glanced around as she lined the patch and screw up by feel. The thief practicing skills long ago honed working in darkness. "Nothing else looks loose or anything. Okay, done. Is there anything else up here?"

"Thanks. Up on that part of the roof? No. On the other shedded on part? Yeah, but you'd have to go up on the high part...and... drop...down..." She shook her head in wonder as Parker reached the other part of the roof with a roll.

"She always like this?" She asked Eliot in a low tone, but Parker could still make it out.

"Willing to help? Not always. Climbing anything she can? Like you wouldn't believe." He set the last few blocks himself while Billy was passing tools to Parker before and, now, left it to dry.

"What's up here?" Parker leaned over the edge. Billy moved to the end of the barn and pointed to lines carved in the end of the barn, five feet above the lower roof.

"Ma has a box of letters for words she wanted put up there with the Ogham, Old Irish script, those lines carved into the boards, but you'd have to put up each one individually and, I'll be honest, the hole will probably need pre-drilled and I'll have to spell out the Gaelic, letter by letter."

"I'm more worried about her being seen up there. Your grandmother is here somewhere, isn't she?" The hitter didn't seem happy.

"Yeah, but you can't see the barn roofs from inside because of the porch roof and Ma's flowering quince. I'm pretty sure you could hid a Sherman tank behind that damn thing...I help Ma prune it and it never seems to get any smaller."

Parker ignored the conversation on the ground and studied the worn grooves in the grayed boards. "What does it say?"

"'Twin Hills', that's what James named the place. Look around. The two oldest buildings, the house and the barn, are built into and on the tops of two of the highest points on the place. That's why the farm's mark is two interlocking C's tilted partially downward. It can be the two hills, Clan Carlisle, as some say, or the name of the place itself. In Gaelic, the words for twin and hill both start with a c. He carved the name in the old script into the barn when he built it and Ma wanted the put the Gaelic and English under it with the family name and '1781', the year James settled out here. You seriously want to do this for me?" Billy looked up at Parker and with the hat tipped back and the sunglasses slipped down, even Parker could see doubts in her eyes.

"I'm up here."

"That you are. I'll go get'em out of the garage then, I guess." Billy pointed and ducked out of sight.

Eliot eased closer to the building. "What are you doing, Parker?"

"Helping, like I said before. I'm up here already." He had that look he did when he was putting things together in his head. _He doesn't know what I do, does he?_ "Sophie said helping people because you can is a good thing, besides you started it with the blocks." Eliot looked mad, but didn't say anything. He had his I-don't-like-it-but-you-have-a-point face.

Something below her rattled and the faded straw hat reappeared over a box. Billy paused a minute and tossed a small box up to Parker and held out a drill bit. "Those are the screws Ma had with'em." She started laying them out on the tailgate and quickly returned with a stack.

Eliot pointed towards the pasture, "Mind if I take a closer look?"

Parker was already fastening the first C in place when Billy gave him the go ahead and pointing out one horse as a bit skittish of strangers and to be careful. Parker waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps on the concrete anymore before asking: "What's it like? Living in one place your whole life, I mean."

Billy sighed and handed up another stack of letters before answering. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure how to answer that. I don't know what it's like to _**not**_ live in one place. When I was little, I didn't understand that people didn't do that most of the time. Remember my mom has always lived here too.

"She was born in that front bedroom by the kitchen and when she got a little older, she moved up a flight of stairs, into the back bedroom by the livin' room. Then she had my sister in that bedroom and, when Sis got a little older, Sis moved to the top floor and into the bedroom that straddles the dinin' room and livin' room. The same thing happened to me really.

"I was born in that back bedroom, slept there with Ma 'til I was about four, I think, and then I claimed that front bedroom across the hall from Sis. The inside of that room's changed some, but I still have posters up from when I was seven years old. Everythin' I associate with home is that house. The crazy layout because it's grown over the years and is built into a hill. I always say back instead of down when I'm goin' to a cellar or basement because ours is behind the kitchen, back in the hill. My first picture was taken laying on Ma's winter comforter in a yellow sleeper with zoo animals on it. I took my first steps between the cistern pump and the settee on the porch. Ma's were in the kitchen from the table to the sink and Granddad's were in the front yard between the garage and his mama standing at the clothesline. I have a connection here that is bone deep. No matter what happens, I have the comfort of knowin' I was born in that house and that they'll bury me in that clearin'.

"I've been to other states and a couple other countries. I've seen new things and learned new ideas, but I've never considered stayin'. I spent a month in Europe on a tour one summer through a school program. We worked and saved for me to do it all spring into summer for it. I planned and prepped for it and I was sketchin' mama goose headin' up the pond dam with the new babies before that 767 cleared Greenland. Visitin' is nice, but it ain't nothin' like comin' home.

"My sister left and hardly ever comes back, except some family gatherin' now and then. I'm not even interested in goin' to school farther away than I can drive everyday. Leavin' ain't in me. One of us always stays. It's me this time. Too much of me is here. That make sense?"

Parker was still a moment. "It's like me being a thief. I makes me, _**me,**_ and I don't know how to not be me. Do the numbers go under the name or after it? I think it looks better after."

"I think you got it. Let me go look, but I'm sure after is right." Parker heard footsteps and then a scraping noise, before Billy was standing in the middle of the road peering up. "That's better than good. Means a lot to me and Mama won't know what to think, she gets home. I guess the mortar's set enough to start fillin' the openin's. I might can get an extra course laid today, finish in a day or so less than what I figured."

Parker listened to the noises below as she put up the last numbers. When she finished, she gathered everything together and sat down on the edge. Billy was pouring sand and gravel into the opening in the blocks and packing it tight around the rebar. Parker relaxed a little watching the repetitive motions and let the sounds lull her a bit. She wasn't sure how long it was before she realized the sound had stopped and opened her eyes, surprised to have zoned out in the open in broad daylight.. Billy was leaning on the end of the wall section and was gazing down its length and nodding silently. She held her hand up to the height it would be when finished for a moment before getting into her truck, pulling her laptop into the cab, and backing down to the far end to start the next row.

Parker wondered how someone could do the same thing over and over again and like it. The team did new jobs, went new places, and pretended to be new people all the time. Maybe she was missing something. Maybe they all were.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N-Thanks to those who are reading this or still reading. Since my mom, my laptop, and myself have all been sick in various combos for the last couple months, I've not had much energy to devote to writing. Every Story Alert or Favorite Story notice has meant so much to me though. I've not seen any of the new season yet, but I hope this doesn't ruin my story. I'll probably try to finish even if it has to go AU. VolceVoice is the best for looking this over for me as always.

Chapter 5- Barely Recognized My Own Reflection

Eliot enjoyed the walk through the pasture. It was a short journey down a lane that crossed a small ditch with culvert at the lowest point before going uphill again. The hill crested and sloped away towards the tree line. The herd had steadily moved towards the shadows of the woods as the sun rose higher. Noticing a couple logs laying under a tree, he sat on one a minute as he watched the animals graze and a few watched him.

Marius had glanced up and upon recognizing the scent returned to the clover he'd found. The gray mare he was with had also looked up, but had likewise gone back to the grass she was eating after the mule had. She moved a few steps. _Look at that head bob. Definitely a Walker and I'll bet the mule's mama._ The team of Percherons were together off to one side and a pair of matched Halflingers were in the middle of the group of minis.

One of them and one little mare nearing her foaling were watching him closely. A large iron gray stallion with signs of roaning had walked further away at his approach and was watching him. He moved stiffly on one side and his large size for a standard horse made Eliot certain he was the one Billy'd called Big'en. When he moved further away still, Eliot could see a gauze pad, loose at one corner, on his right hip. "I'd be wary too, Old Man."

The horse's slightly stiff movement had been chalked up to his injury at first, but as Eliot looked closer at him, he saw the coarse hair that hadn't shedded off so well and the worn teeth used to graze. The old timer had seen a lot of years for a horse in his life. He had to be at least in his late 20's, maybe even his 30's, but he didn't wear it heavily. "They take good care of you. The long rides got hard, so they got someone else to do the hard work and let you retire, huh?"

Eliot had worked with older horses in his life. Extra feed, extra supplements, and extra curryings were the only things you could really do, besides watching their hooves and teeth. Some hands had complained about the extra grooming, but Eliot had enjoyed it. It was really one of his first experiences with meditation. Maybe it was what he needed to clear his head and figure out what he needed from Hardison to plan his little side job.

"If I head back up there and get a brush, would you like a brushing?" He directed his question to the "room". A few heads paused to look at him, one or two looking to see if he had a brush and moving on when they saw he didn't.

"That got your attention." He smiled a little. Even with everything happening, he felt lighter. It must have something to do with being back on the bluegrass even if it was the wrong end of the state. It was peaceful here. It deserved to be peaceful.

Well, he needed to make sure Parker wasn't stealing or blowing something up. He rose from his seat and started back up the lane. He was met with quite possibly the most disturbing sound he'd ever heard: laughter.

His mind flashed back to Croatia.

_*He was naked and tied to a post. Two guards stood by with buckets of sugar water. The bees droned in the background. The boss yelled questions in his face*_

He heard it again. Parker's too high bark and a low chuckle that held a note of menace reached him as he left the grass for the concrete by the barn. _ Yep, the most disturbing thing he'd ever heard._

Billy had started another course of block and had somehow ended up teaching Parker how to use the trowel. The work didn't look half bad. He wasn't surprised. The thief was a quick study of manual skills. A hat bearing the logo of the Louisville River Bats minor league team had ended up on Parker's head.

"Hi! I'm laying mortar." Parker had that little girl smile that _**always**_ got to him. She reminded him too much of his sister when she did.

"Yeah, you are, darlin'. Looks good too. I thought I'd see if I could track down a curry comb and see if anyone was interested in a bit of groomin' and maybe clear my head. Everybody looks neat except maybe the old timer."

"Not like that's his fault. He'll be forty next year."

"Forty!" Eliot was surprised. He hadn't expected the stallion to be _that_ old.

"Forty. Grandad had one of his hunting buddies find a mare and pick a stud and bought him three days old as Ma's graduation present. Ma loved Mr. Collin's mare Lady and rode her any chance she could get. She loved the gait and the temperament of a Walkin' horse. Collins let him use her and helped find a high powered stud. Big'en's got papers and is Ma's first baby really. Seriously, she's got three framed pictures on her desk at work: Big'en and Goldie, my sister, and me. She gentled him out herself."

"I knew he'd seen a lot of years, but that's a lot more than I expected." Eliot turned back towards the pasture and was surprised to see the stallion coming over the hill, breaking into a running walk that would have turned heads even in a show ring as he reached the lane.

"What do you expect from a grandson of Midnight Sun and Go Boy's Shadow both? Midnight Sun was the first World Grand Champion and, with a handful of exceptions, is in the direct sire's line of every one since. Mr. Collins had seventeen offers to buy him, even after he was already paid for before he was weaned and delivered here, most on that gait alone."

"Easy, ea-sy." Eliot turned from the stallion's display of undiminished talent, to see that Parker had tried to bolt. Tried, because she hadn't got away. Billy had her in a bear hug from behind, lifting her feet clear of the ground. Parker was slowly starting to relax in her grip. If that wasn't weird enough, Billy had her cheek against Parker's hair, eyes closed, humming a meaningless noise that changed bit by bit until it remained a steady pitch and rhythm and Parker was still in her grip. By then the huge stallion stood before them. _He's got to be eighteen hands, probably weighed close to a ton in __his prime._ He'd encountered only a few horses that big that didn't have a draft horse in their bloodlines. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Billy step forward and adjust her grip until Parker was back on the ground, but still held tightly. Slowly, she took Parker's left hand under hers and held it out to the stallion.

"Big'en, this is Parker. Parker this is Big'en, though the papers say Shadow's Major Dundee. He likes scratched along his jaw. The loose hair gets itchy there." After a moment, she removed her hand, leaving Parker to scratch the horse. "See he's a big puppy. Ma set me up on his back from the time I could sit up by myself. I could ride him without much help by the time I was five. He's a very good teacher."

_He is indeed. _The hitter watched the thief flinch, but not recoil as the roan horse turned his head for better access. The blond's strong and nimble fingers made her the old horse's new favorite person. Billy released Parker and started to ease away, towards the barn. Eliot followed quietly, surprised at how comfortable he felt leaving Parker with the horse. By the time he caught up to the brunette, she was bent over a steel drum, dipping feed into a bucket. As she stood up, he heard a mutter that sounded like "I guess it works on humans too."

"What works on humans?"

"Whatever that is."

"Whatever what is?"

"I don't know what to call it. I don't know how I do it. I just do. Mom calls it hypnotizing them. Gran calls it the Knack."

"That thing you did to Parker with the holding and humming?"

"That would be it. I don't exactly do it consciously so I can't tell you what happens. Best Ma can tell is I put myself into a state of complete calm and then project it onto something else. I disappeared outside at a cousin's when I was about three and when everyone started lookin' for me, somebody noticed the door of the shed my cousin'd penned up her pitbull in was open. Hoss was a hard ass. They came outside and I was sleepin' _**on**_ him in the yard. It just sort of happens. Cats, dogs, horses, chickens, ducks, llamas..., all sorts of thangs. I've walked through a flea market leading a turkey on a string that five minutes before was trying to flog somebody through a cage. I've never had it not work to at least some degree." She offered him a tote with grooming tools in it. "As if I'm not enough of a freak as is." She slipped back outside and he followed.

Parker was still scratching Big'en, though she'd moved to his shoulders. Billy slid the bucket of grain towards him and he pulled it closer with his nose. Eliot sat the tote down and slid his hand in a brush. Parker was peering intently at him. He held it up. "It's a horse brush. It fits in your palm with a strap around your hand."

"Can I try it?" The hitter was surprised at Parker's sudden interest in horses, but he wasn't going to put a damper on it. He offered her another brush and then demonstrated the technique a few times, before moving to the other side. Looking up to check on Parker, he caught a glimpse of Billy watching from her place near the truck. She inclined her head at the horse and Eliot could just make out her mouthing "school is in session" before she turned back to her construction project.

Eliot had to agree. Parker was still a little nervous, but Big'en was a patient teacher and kept any movement slow and deliberate. Eliot could see some of the fear just float away from Parker with the loose horse hair and some of Eliot's worry went with them.

_Think like Nate. How do I bring down a bunch of young punks on_ _the road_ _to ruin? That's it! _Eliot grinned in the way no one who'd ever faced him wanted to see. Those boys were already getting into trouble. He just needed to find out what they had already done or were doing and get them with that. Drugs, burglary... something surely. He just had to find it. He'd have Hardison pull their records and whatever else he could find. He patted the horse in a silent thank you and the stud raised his head from the bucket and turned to look at Eliot, bobbed his head and returned to lunch. _I think he just said you're welcome._ At least, he'd found something useful to do while he waited on Nate.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Hardison ambled down the stairs. He was sure he'd been down earlier, mostly because he wasn't hungry, but he didn't remember it. He hoped he hadn't embarrassed himself. He glanced around the common area and was starting the programs he needed to work when something slowly registered on his sleep dulled brain. Sophie Devereaux was standing at the sink. She was standing at the sink doing dishes. He blinked trying to make sure his eyes were working correctly. No they were fine. Maybe it was his brain. He pinched himself. _Ouch, that hurt._ It was good too. He quietly pulled out his phone and took video for his private collection. This would be joining the security footage he hacked of Parker climbing a column in the department store all the way to the ceiling to get back some kid's lost balloon. Part of him had been breathless from awe and the other part had been having a heart attack from sheer terror.

"What'd you do, Soph? Make a joke about Eliot's hair."

The grifter shot him a look that coming from Sophie was downright disturbing. She put a pan back in the sink and offered a gestured of similar thought. Then she smiled and he became very, very worried.

"Actually, I received clean up duties because of the old rule."

"'If you cook, you don't clean up.' Why isn't Parker helping you then?"

"Because, she helped Eliot cook. She learned on her meal and made _**yours**_ with supervision."

"That's sweet... and really, really disturbing now that I think about it."

"She was very proud of her blue eggs, so you get to help me instead."

"But I was going to check the...wait, did you say blue? What the hell did she feed me and why did you all let her?"

"Grab a dishtowel and relax. The eggs weren't blue, just the shell. Some breed of chicken lays them naturally according to Eliot."

"That's just mean. Maybe I won't help you now."

"Fine. You can explain the stack of wet dishes on the counter when Eliot comes back to make lunch."

"It isn't really mean, just funny. I guess I'm big enough that I can let it go." He snatched a towel and started drying utensils. Holding up a handful of dry forks, "Where do these go?"

"In the drawer by the stove, I think."

Hardison put them away and returned to his drying duties. "I haven't dried dishes since I left Nana's. I guess it's the price of home-cooked meals."

Sophie handed him a plate. "I haven't done this in ages either. You're right though. It makes it seem like home."

"Where is Eliot? And Parker for that matter?" Hardison glanced around hopefully. _Maybe I can offer to check up on them. _ He set the dry plate on top of two others.

"Oh, Parker slipped out while Eliot was helping to load the sink and he went out to see about her. He texted me a bit ago. They're up at the barn with Billy." Sophie handed him the fourth plate and picked up the final one that had held the bacon. Hardison's hands had fallen into the old rhythm after it came back to him. He was sure his skill would pass Eliot's inspection. It had passed Nana's in time, after many, many re-dried dishes. The faster he'd done it right the faster he'd gotten to his computer. He'd learned the right way quickly.

As odd as it was to be doing dishes with Sophie, it was still comfortable. The two worked in silence, completing most of the dishes before an alarm sounded on his laptop. He offered an apologetic look at the grifter as he dried his hands and moved to the table.

"What is it?" Sophie tossed over her shoulder as he peered at the screen.

"I set it to alert me when Nate's chart is being modified."

"Please be good news."

"Very good news."

"Well, how is Nate?"

Hardison waved her over. "See what he has to say for yourself."

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Nate took the breakfast tray from the orderly and was surprised he had an appetite. Maybe it was because he was feeling better, maybe it was because he was sober, he wasn't sure but he was grateful. Hopefully a healthy appetite was a good sign.

He dug into the meal and was forcibly reminded as to why hospitals received such poor reputations when it came to fine dining. At least it would be filling. He had no hope of contraband meals and was relieved in a way. It meant the team was far enough away Sterling couldn't reach them, though he didn't doubt they were watching. There were too many ways in to keep Hardison out. He felt a smile form. So far the only thing beyond the hacker's powers were hicks.

There was no doubt that wherever they were, and his heart told him they had stayed together, the young man had found a way to monitor the phones and cameras. His eyes fell on the electric chart. The team probably knew how many stitches it took to close him up. It probably had been infiltrated in such a way the doctor or nurse's entries appeared live on the laptop they were using in their makeshift command center. Every stroke, saved or not, went directly to a window on the other screen. Anything _**HE**_ put on it would appear and vice versa. If he could get to it, he'd have some contact that Sterling would have trouble tracing.

He had some time before anyone came in and he could explain his way out of it to the medical staff as curiosity. If he could just reach it... Stretching hurt, but using the lid of his tray he worked it out of the holder and into the lid. Nate settled it in his lap and looked it over, eating with one hand to cover his actions with anyone glancing in. It took a little exploring to figure it out, but his time with Hardison had been well spent. He entered a short text and waited. _Can't a sick man have some privacy? Miss you all._

He downed the rest of his tray and waited. He started to doubt himself, but then it appeared: _What took you so long, man? You're the mastermind. What have you got going on your end? _

Casting a glance at the door, he told them everything. He felt better than even the morphine could manage.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Parker was surprised at how calm she was. Despite his sudden arrival, this horse didn't seem dangerous. Eliot didn't think so and he was an expert on dangerous and the numbers agreed.

Parker was good with numbers. She relied on them. The tensile strength of her wire, the distance to a window, the combination to a lock, she could trust them. Numbers didn't lie. This time the numbers said that horses weren't all bad. The first one had been a killer, but the two since had been nice. The odds said only one in three horses were mean. She'd have to remember that.

They'd finished using the curry combs and Eliot had shown her how to do the mane and tail. She was working on his tail now and Eliot had slipped away to retrieve what was needed to replace the bandage on the old stallion after he'd offered and Billy'd accepted. Eliot once said brushing a horse was relaxing and she thought maybe she understood that a little now. The repetitive motion and the presence of a being that passed no judgments and betrayed no secrets had that effect on people. Parker looked at Billy for a moment. The thief thought maybe the other woman needed to do some grooming herself.

The easy motions of laying block and the bob of her head in time with the music Parker's sensitive hearing had picked up coming now from the Blue Tooth earpiece she had put on one ear hid the tension for the most part, but in those brief moments when she stopped for a drink and to occasionally do something on her computer even Parker could see the stress under the surface. Once or twice, she'd wiped her hands and grasped something in her pocket or brushed her fingers over the grip of the pistol in the small of her back. She was resolute, but still... sad, or maybe hurt. Parker wasn't very good at this part. Even the occasional visit from one of the other animals, and there had been several cats, kittens, the dog, and a duck, didn't ease the worry entirely, not for an instant.

At the moment, she'd tipped the hat back to wipe her forehead and empty her bottle. Setting the empty container beside her on the tail gate, she tapped something on the computer before grabbing the bottle, getting up, and heading Parker's way.

Inclining her head towards the house and raising the bottle, she addressed the thief. "I'm needin' a refill and I'd best see how close Gran is to callin' me in for dinner before she comes out to get me. You want somethin' to drink?"

"No. I'm good." Parker had the tail free of tangles and had simply been petting Big'en, waiting for Eliot to get back. Hearing his footsteps, she asked him if he wanted something before he'd rounded the corner. "No thanks." He replied and opened the bottle of ointment.

"Okay then. Back in a bit."

Turning back to the hitter, Parker asked, "Can I help?"

"You can cut pieces of tape to go around the edges of the gauze pad." He tipped his head toward the bucket of supplies.

At least it was something to do. Parker finished the task quickly and Eliot placed it carefully over the stitches. "There you go, Old Man." With a pat on the flank, the horse drifted back towards the pasture. Both thieves watched him a minute, then Eliot surprised Parker by turning to face her. "You up for a side job?"

Parker raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?" Maybe she wouldn't be bored after all.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Sophie leaned rather heavily over Hardison's shoulder as they exchanged bits and pieces of information with Nate as quickly as possible. Nate hadn't asked any questions about the team beyond how they were. He didn't need to know where they were. The less people who knew the better. Part of her had tuned out the communication, confident that anything she missed, she could pick up later when they filled in Parker and Eliot.

That part of her mind wanted to try to make sense of things between her and Nate. It longed for deep and meaningful conversation, shared hopes and fears. The rational part screamed now wasn't the time. That they had to get Nate back before there was a chance of anything between them, but still that little part of her wanted something, anything, from him to reassure her that they had a chance.

Pushing aside the selfish thoughts, she focused back in on the conversation. Nate and Hardison had finished with updating one another and had moved on to planning. The room Nate was currently in was an advantage. It had the least accessibility and, since any person entering the room had to have their ID checked and be frisked, Hardison could watch the camera feed for the hall and alert Nate to replace the electronic chart. Hardison was tasked with finding out everything he could on the upcoming trial and Nate would try to sleep today and then check in tonight again. Nate gave a quick _Bye_ and them he was out of reach again and Hardison quickly wiped the traces of the conversation from the chart.

Hardison busied himself with the tasks Nate set for him, leaving Sophie to her thoughts and the remaining dishes. She'd left the team to figure out who she was and she hadn't even told them her real name. Now wasn't the time. They were too on edge still, maybe when they felt more at ease. Yes, she'd tell them and they could get used to who she really was. She could get used to who she really was. Then, maybe, Nate could fall in love with the real her.


	6. Chapter 6

AN- Thanks to VolceVoice for betaing this. I'm working off of backed up files on borrowed computers, so thanks to you guys for bearing with me and staying with me.

Chapter 6- Something I've Never Known

"You want to go after the boys, right?"

Parker's question surprised Eliot. She was good at surprising him. Mostly about her life or her skills or her knowledge. Being surprised by her perceptiveness was new. He was... proud or glad maybe. She was learning. Time and decent role models were doing wonders.

He nodded. "That's exactly what I had in mind. I don't like the idea of somebody showin' up unexpected with trouble on their mind. We don't want the cops out here."

"Plus, they're mean. What are we going to do?"

Maneuvering so they could keep an eye on the house, but still remain somewhat hidden, Eliot decided to lay out what he'd figured out to Parker. The woman had some pretty good ideas. Crazy, but good.

"These punks have to have records or be into something. I'll have Hardison to do some digging and see what they've been up to. Maybe we can work from that angle."

"Maybe he can find an open police case we can connect them to. Prosecutors like to heap on changes. Nate said so. The more things they can charge someone with the better the odds of getting them for something."

"Perfect, I'll have him pull the police blotter too. There's always something if we can just find it." Both looked up at the screen door's slam. Billy was headed back, two cats, five kittens, and the dog trailing along underfoot.

As they quickly moved back toward the growing wall at the other end of the barn, they heard a kitten squeal. "Sorry, dammit. Don't run between my feet it you don't want to be kicked. You okay, Macon?" Billy came around to the rear of the barn with a brown and black striped kitten in her arms. She was looking at him carefully as she felt his limbs and ribs. "I think you're fine, dummy." She dropped him back on the ground and nudged him toward a nearly identical kitten. "Go play with Savannah." Eliot studiously looked at the masonry. Parker followed his lead.

"I think I can get this course finished out before lunch is ready and at least one more before the end of the day. With luck, I can get the caps laid before the storms move in this weekend. Maybe even finish the whole section out. That'd be nice. I brought you guys a couple bottles of water. There's some of those drink mix singles in the glove box of the truck if you're interested. I don't drink water that tastes like water if I don't have to."

Eliot took the bottles, offering one to Parker. "How long 'til you get called in?"

"Forty-five minutes tops. Gran's fixin' stew and she's addin' the potatoes." She moved past them to the water bucket and looked at it a minute. Picking it up, she disappeared around the corner. Eliot looked at the back of the truck and mentally tallied how many blocks were left in it and on the stack at the far end of the wall.

When Billy came back around carrying the bucket in one hand with the other out for balance, Eliot couldn't keep from asking, "Should you be carrying that?"

She set the bucket down and looked up at him sharply. "Five gallons is about forty pound, same as a sack of feed. I'm fine carryin' it, least for now. Nice to know your guy's good. What tipped you off?" She mixed a little more mortar and didn't meet his eyes.

"Hardison ran your financials and found where you filled your prescription."

"Knew I should have paid cash. At least Mom doesn't know yet; she ain't said nothin' anyway." Spreading the mortar and turning for a block, she glanced over the top of her sunglasses at him. "I'll tell them when I get a couple of things figured out. Sometimes I wonder if Gran suspects though." Eliot leaned past her to drop a block into place.

"You've got a plan then." More mortar, another block.

"Don't say the p word. You'll jinx it. But, yeah, I've got some things in mind as to what I want. I've got to drive up to Lexington tomorrow to talk to the Omnibud about gettin' an exemption from havin' to live in the dorm. I don't handle people so well and now isn't the time to try. I'm fairly sure it'll take. I'm goin' see if I can appeal to the scholarship board about modifyin' the terms of mine. If I don't need board, gettin' my books and maybe some summer classes covered in its place would be nice. I'll manage. I always do after I get my mind made up." Another block. Eliot glanced at a strangely quiet Parker. She was watching curiously. He wondered how she knew. Another block.

"It explained a lot about you being so on edge." Another block.

"Can you blame me? Now ain't the best time for little idiots to be fuckin' around with a pellet gun out here. I'm dealin' with enough right now." Mortar, block.

"No, I can't, darlin'. Nobody would."

She paused to take a drink as he set a block in place. "I think I've got everythin' close to being figured out, as long as nothin' goes too far off script. I need the loose ends to be tied up. I'd prefer a noose, but I'll settle for handcuffs. I know what classes I need for what I want and I've got a pretty good idea of when I'll take 'em. Finals will be int'restin' this first semester, but I'm got a list of online classes for the spring and next summer. I'll be home mostly 'til next fall.

"If I can get some of these big projects done soon or at least the big parts of them, I'll stay ahead of things. When I finish the wall as far as the hayfield," she tipped her head toward the field of alfalfa less than fifty feet away and cleaned away the extra mortar before spreading more, "I'll take the panels we had here up to a spot on the backside of the pasture where the wire fence is failing and then that will be set for a good while.

"I get that chicken house and run done, we'll be good for space 'til next year. I might can even get a second house done or close to it and Ma can help with the run when she's off for vacation in July. School's covered. The farm's covered. The web designin' and maintainin' business I do has always been flexible. The four things I've got on my mind are a meetin', a wall, a pack of idiots, and the first part of December. Four big ones, but I can manage."

They had nearly reached the endpost, when the door of the house creaked open and a voice shouted. "Bill-y, whenever you're read-y!"

"Okay! Almost done! Be in in a bit!" She yelled back.

Parker had slid the blocks in the back of the truck further forward for Eliot. Catching Parker's eye a moment as he grabbed a block, he offered a smile at the young woman waiting to trim the excess mortar from it. "Let's see if we can help with shortening that list. It's the least we can do."

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Sophie had finished the dishes and was rather relieved when Hardison had produced a head set and asked if she'd mind listening to some recorded phone conversations while he tried to get all the cases against Kadjic and Culpepper sorted out. There were state, federal, and international charges looming against both men and the cases needed his full attention to get ready to brief Nate before he checked in again tonight.

She occasionally made a note on a legal pad from one of the drawers, but mostly she listened to their tone. Were they confident? Concerned? She made notes of how they treated each other. One agent in particular had practically lived at the hospital and that might be useful. Depending on what Nate came up with, knowing exactly how all the pieces moved might make or break the plan.

"Hardison, the Attorney General of Massachusetts is demanding they get first crack at Culpepper, but is more than happy to let him be tried in a federal court after. They aren't interested in Kadjic beyond getting the names of the shooters in Bonano's case. They'll drop state charges in exchange for the names and testimony."

"They probably don't want to have to deal with all the security issues of a major organized crime trial. The cost in money and manpower is crazy. I just found a memo from Nivens' boss complaining about all the extra security Sterling is insisting they put in place for Nate."

They both looked up at the footsteps from the porch. Eliot opened the door and held it as Parker slipped past. "I'm gonna get this mortar and horsehair off me and then I'll fix lunch and we'll decide on dinner."

"Mortar and horsehair? Do I even want to think about what y'all been doin'?" Hardison called over his shoulder.

Parker smiled. "I climbed up on the barn roof and I brushed a horse and then we helped build a wall."

"What! There was a horse on the roof? What **have** you been doin'?" The hacker turned to face the two and Sophie watched in amusement, a little curious herself.

"You brushed a horse, Parker?" She asked.

"A really old one. He liked it a lot." The thief took her turn in the bathroom sink, as Eliot moved to the kitchen.

"What about the roof and a wall?" Hardison was even more confused.

"Parker helped fix a hole in the roof and we pitched in on the wall Billy's working on. The fence posts behind the barn went bad so Billy's laying a block wall in its place. She got called in to lunch so we headed back for lunch ourselves." Eliot was looking in the cabinets.

_At least they stayed out of trouble,_ she thought. "That's nice."

"What are you doing?" Parker leaned over Hardison's shoulder.

"I'm looking at the cases against Kadjic and Culpepper. There is a lot of jurisdictional stuff goin' on. Sophie's goin' through the phone logs. Nate sent us a message using the electronic chart in his room. He wants me to see what kind of cases they have so he'll know what he can use as leverage. He's going to try to check back tonight after hours."

"He's okay then." Eliot asked pulling vegetables from the fridge.

"Seems to be." Hardison turned to Parker. "You fed me blue eggs?"

"Silly. The eggs were yellow. The _shells_ were blue. They didn't taste funny did they?"

"No. I don't think so. You made my breakfast." His smile was gentle.

"Yeah. I didn't want to try on mine." She wandered over to Eliot. "Can I help?"

"I suppose. Here." He placed a knife in her hand, corrected her grip, and guided it through the vegetables. Sophie gazed at the sight in front of her and wasn't nervous, even knowing Parker as she did. Parker was interested and Eliot seemed willing. She wouldn't interfere.

The sounds coming from the kitchen and Hardison's typing were surprisingly soothing. Turning back to her sound files, Sophie couldn't help but think the only thing missing was Nate stirring his coffee.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Figuring out the network of charges was harder than pretending to be a lawyer, he could say that from experience. Hardison had found himself referring to an online legal dictionary so often, he simply left the window open on the screen. He wondered how anyone got convicted of anything when the prosecutors couldn't decide exactly what they'd done wrong and who they'd done it to. He just tried to get as much as he could on each case and hope Nate could make sense of it. He'd been an insurance man. That meant he was basically one part lawyer, one part accountant, and one part thief.

Sophie had found some interesting stuff he'd missed and he added that to his briefing. He was

working on a Trojan that created a hidden compartment on Nate's chart to hide data. The operating

system was freaky since it was in house designed, but he was getting there. Hopefully, no one noticed the disk space it was using.

Eliot and Parker were making a simple stir fry out of fresh vegetables and some beef. At the moment, Eliot was explaining the subtleties of cooking rice and Hardison felt a tug at the attentive look on her face. Why was he so bothered by all the time Parker was spending with Eliot? She was learning to cook and getting over a fear of horses with someone who was an expert in both. Nothing happening, but for some reason the way Eliot stood behind her and was reaching around to show her how to sift it through her fingers to make sure the chaff was all out annoyed him. He turned his screen a little and shifted his eyes from the two and reached for the orange soda. _Focus, man, focus. _It was going to be a long day.

Two hours and a welcome meal later, Hardison had made some sense of most of what he'd found. He'd gone over it with the others at lunch, explained how Nate had contacted them to Eliot and Parker, and they'd sorted out a lot of the new information between the team. Between the four, they covered a wide range of legal knowledge. It made sense. Knowing what not to be caught doing is always a good thing for a career criminal. You never drive over the speed limit with a body in the trunk.

Eliot had decided that lasagna was in order for dinner. With the fresh eggs on hand, the opportunity to of having fresh, homemade pasta was irresistible. The large, flat noodles were good to learn on and the leftovers could be warmed easily for impromptu eating tomorrow. After he got a consensus of when everyone wanted dinner, he left and Parker went with him. Hardison felt the pang when they left again. Even the note the other man had slipped him with his request for background on their local job wasn't enough to distract him completely. Hardison wasn't a bit hungry, but dinner couldn't come soon enough.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Nate managed to sleep part of the day. Sterling had paid a visit while he was sleeping and a nurse had thrown him out so he wouldn't disturb her patient. She'd told Nate when she'd brought his lunch and he had wished he'd seen his old friend's face.

His team had settled into a safe house and that was a weight off him that had been unexpectedly heavy. As long as they stayed safe, he was okay. Honor among thieves, he guessed. The Catholic in him thought about penitence. The father and husband in him whispered it was devotion from the dark corner he'd locked them away in. It didn't matter why he did it. It just felt right. Somehow it was right being hand-cuffed to a hospital bed with a bullet wound and being arrested by a former friend to protect people he once had chased to the ends of the Earth.

His mind alternated back and forth between analyzing what Hardison had told him and the man he'd become. Had he changed all at once and simply been too drunk on liquor or control to see it? Or had it been a gradual shift, slow and unceasing, that made him into someone people, who once knew him well, saw as a stranger now? Maybe when the woman he loved had buried Sophie Devereaux and the rest of the identities she'd hid behind for so long that she'd lost sight of herself, he'd buried the Nathan Ford he'd been with her. The Nate that had loved Sophie was gone. The man that took his place was still unfamiliar and a surprise, even to him. He hoped he was someone the woman who'd come back could love and would be worthy of her, worthy of all of them. He hoped he was because he'd lost one family and it had broken him. Losing this one would destroy him.

In between forming strategy to play this all out and getting into Sterling's head to see what he needed to do to keep his old friend focused on him, he repeated the promises he'd made to himself and the things he wanted to do and say when he saw them again. It was a mantra that lulled him to sleep as the sun slipped lower.

The night nurse brought his tray again and he ate with relish even if the food was only passable. Finishing meant that they would take his tray and check his vitals before leaving him alone for the next several hours. When that happened, he could check on them again. Not check on the plan, check on them. He wasn't sure if that was a recent change in his thinking or if it was merely being willing to admit it. Either way, it was the bare truth. The team was important to him in ways he would never have expected to be possible. There had been a time when he'd wondered if Sam would have approved of these people he spent so much time with; now the introspective part of him that had once considered the priesthood as his calling wondered sometimes if, maybe, Sam had sent them to fix him. If, maybe, the four thieves making their way into his life had been a gift from his little boy to try to help him find his way again. If Sam had, it was working.

He swallowed the last of the hospital coffee and pressed the call button for the nurse to come take his tray. He offered her what he hoped came off as a tired smile. She started checking readings and making notations. He settled himself back in the bed, pulling the blanket up, getting ready to sleep.

"My mother must have been right. She always said you slept when you healed, just like when you grew." The nurse offered a smile of her own.

"She must have been. You are doing great. The doctor will check on you in the morning after breakfast."

"That's good. I'm so tired, I probably won't even wake up when you come to check on me later."

"I don't think I'll need to. Louise will check before breakfast, but I think I'll leave you to sleep tonight. It's the best thing right now."

"That's nice to know I won't be bothered tonight." He closed his eyes and she turned out the lights as she left. He remained in that position a never-ending five minutes and then went to work getting his e-chart.

He entered "Hi" and waited. "Hey, man," appeared quickly and immediately after came a set of instructions. Nate read through them carefully twice and then followed them. A list of files appeared and a note from Hardison, explaining what he'd done appeared in a text box at the top.

Nate replied, "Nice work. I'll look at this and get back with you. How is everyone?"

"Sophie's monitoring the phone taps. Eliot's checking our supplies. Parker is...somewhere. We're good, man, but we miss you. I'll be waiting and watching the camera outside your door if you need something."

Nate started sifting through the amount of data he had available and smiled at Hardison's thoroughness. They were okay and they'd work everything out in the end. He had faith.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Parker had slipped out right after dinner, as soon as everyone one else started doing other things. She wanted to look around some more and now was a good time. She'd gone outside again, not wanting to be there when Nate checked in. How could he let himself get caught? By Sterling? Had Nate learned nothing?

Hardison had briefed them on the open cases he'd been researching and they tried to sort out the finer details. Nate would have to testify at four or five trials if the prosecutors couldn't find anything else. Nate might have enough to get immunity from everything. He might just be able to walk out of this a free man. They had all been a little cheered by that. Parker was still mad that he'd let himself get caught, but she told Hardison to tell him hi for her.

She crossed the open pastures that lay between the cottage and the main area and ducked behind a small shed. The large garden stretched out beside her. Billy had given Eliot permission to raid it. "Ma plants like we're the sole supplier to Libby's even though it's just the three of us. Take whatever you want. She'll blame the wildlife if she notices at all and I won't have to help freeze or can it. You could steal out of the herb bed too, but that's a little dicier. Part of it is visible from the sunroom, but there's a lot of them planted out your way anyways in the flowerbeds around the weaning shack."

They'd hit the garden on the way back and Eliot had mused that Billy hadn't exaggerated much. He figured that they planted the same for years and just never scaled back. He had been happy though, farm fresh produce was his kind of gourmet. Parker hadn't been interested in the intricacies of picking produce until Eliot compared it to knowing which wallets were worth lifting.

Eliot had started cooking as soon as they'd gotten back and she enjoyed the lesson. The precise way lasagna was assembled reminded her of how you prepared and assembled bomb components. The salad hadn't been as interesting to mix, but everyone had enjoyed it. Eliot had asked Hardison to dig up some background on their marks at lunch and stayed after dinner to study what he had.

They'd asked Billy some questions that afternoon about Johnny Walters and his friends without making her too suspicious.

_*They came back up to the barn the back way and froze when they heard Billy talking._

_"I know final transcripts aren't normally sent to colleges before commencement, Mrs. Reeves, but I have a meeting with the Omnibud tomorrow and it would really help to have it on file already."_

_A pause filled by the sound of Billy's metal water bottle being set back on the tailgate passed. When Billy had spoken again, thanking the woman, they realized she was speaking on the phone. Parker and Eliot came around the corner just as Billy was putting her phone away and checking to see how the filling was settling in the end blocks. She noticed them as she turned back to the truck and reached to open the cab._

_Jerking a thumb in the direction of the far end, she said, "Gonna start the next row and load some more block. Oh, the rest of your supplies are in the cooler in the truck. Just take them when you go."_

_Eliot nodded and headed that direction while Parker opened the passenger side door and hopped in. Noticing Chicago was nowhere to be seen, Parker asked where the injured kitten was._

_"In the tack room with the rest of the Gang. It's feedin' time for the kittens. Well, the ones that eat feed. Hopefully he won't get too roughed up."_

_Exiting the truck, Billy started loading block into the bed with Eliot joining in._

_"Your grandma can't see us from here, can she?" Eliot tilted his head back towards the house._

_"Nah, she's busy in the kitchen listening to the ball game and trying to salvage a pair of pants I destroyed. Caught the cuff of the damn things on a bolt on the tractor and ripped the leg to the knee. I suspect they'll be shorts in their next life. Not that I wear shorts often. I need the protection from the furballs."_

_"See, that's a reason not to like a cat." Eliot placed the last block on the pallet up on the truck and dusted off his hands._

_"I don't have __**a**__ cat. I have...thirty-...five?" Billy chuckled at the look on h__is face and Parker wished Hardison had seen it._

_"Thirty-five cats!"_

_Both women laughed. "Well, technically, nineteen are kittens under the age of one. Someone left a box with twelve by the gate. Tippy sort of claimed them. Fancy has her three. Bertie has two. Scotty had two Sunday. Tiny little things. Probably not even three inches long; then again Scotty's a little thing herself..." Billy trailed off, obviously contemplating "the Gang" as she had referred to the kittens collectively._

_"They sound cute." Parker watched Eliot's face in growing amusement as he spit and sputtered at the idea of that many cats running around._

_"They are. One's black and the other one's striped like her. I've just peeked a couple times. Scotty's funny about folks, so I haven't touched."_

_"Somebody dumped a dozen kittens on you guys and you just go on like it's nothin'?" Eliot finally spoke._

_"We get a lot of throwaway babies out here. I fixed a place for them in the tack room and Tippy's been stayin' with 'em. She has a thing about stealin' kittens. Never raised one of her own, but she'll momma any she can get. I do tech support for Doc Hanson, the vet, and he cuts us a deal." Billy shrugged and started mixing a new batch of mortar._

_"I thought Hanson was the local country doctor." Eliot was confused. He read her file and it was definitely Hanson._

_"He is. Augustus Hanson had the local practice for decades. He was the one that delivered my sister. He told his boys that he'd send them to college and then med school. Theodore and Thaddeus went, but Tad wasn't much for people. He used to work for my granddad and Uncle Waylon when they hauled stock or needed extra hands here when he was in high school and decided to switch majors without telling the old man and Ted helped. They both graduated and they found a school that had a med school and a veterinary school and hood winked the old man again. Ted helped Tad open a practice in the county, since there wasn't one and they live together on the old family farm. One works out of the house and one the barn. Tad was married once, but she died in a car accident a year into the marriage and he never remarried. Tad also a soft spot for me."_

_Eliot muttered, "I'm gettin' a headache." He mumbled, rubbing his temples. "He had a soft spot for another animal lover?"_

_A laugh was the first reply. "That and I'm his only human patient."_

_"What?" Eliot and Parker both spoke up._

_"He was out here one spring day lookin' over the lambs, while his brother was at conference in Lexington. Mom likes to make the joke that I enjoy doin' things different so I decided not to wait those last couple weeks to be born. Tad called his brother and he hurried, but I was quicker. Ma said it took about three hours total. Tad makes the joke I'm the smallest filly he caught. When I was a girl and Ma couldn't name me after her pa like she wanted, she sort of named me after her uncle that Hanson the vet worked with. That's the reason I ended up named Wylene. Waylon's middle name was McEwan, his mama's maiden name, so mine in Wilhelm, Gran's maiden name. The Hanson brothers jokin'ly called me Wyl' Bill, because I was so quiet and I've been Bill or Billy ever' since. I use W.W. Carlisle formally. The tomboy got the girly name. Yay. Rah. One thing on a long list of thing I got teased for, right along with the lazy eye and the sideways feet." The two had fallen into the comfortable working rhythm from the morning._

_"How long's Johnny Walters been bothering you?" Eliot took the opening to shift the subject._

_"Just high school. I was awfully disappointed when he didn't graduate last year like he should of. Shame on me for expectin' that from an idiot that had to repeat P.E.."_

_"This guy flunked __**gym**__?"_

_"Indeedy-do, I had to take Sophomore Phys Ed with him when he was a junior. Much as I hate it and bad as I am, I've never flunked gym. Handwritin' is another story. His little buddies are brighter than him at least. Shawn Danvers is graduatin' with me and, far as I know, Alex West will next year."_

_Eliot took advantage of Billy stopping to pull the truck forward to drink some water and sift through what he knew with Parker. Walters was the boss, but not the brains. He was their main target, but the others weren't as innocent as some of the lackeys they dealt with. They would pay too. It almost seemed too easy. _

_Eliot kept the conversation moving, asking about specific incidents or facts about the three. Parker wandered off toward the barn._

_"Wanna let the kittens out? They should be done eatin' by now. Just follow the sound of hyper kittens."_

_Parker wandered into the barn, creating a mental map of the immense structure. It rose a total of four levels, crafted from native lumber and stone. The entrance she used brought her into the second level. It was full of bins and barrels of various feed mixes, workspaces, and storage. A covered drive-through separated the main building from the granary. Parker was more than familiar with that end of the building. Hesitating at one of the open shafts that pierced the levels from the ground to the roof, she looked up at the virtually empty third level waiting to be restocked with hay and straw in the coming months and the top level that was made up catwalks allowing access to hoists and pulleys mounted to the roof beams. Not very interesting and the sound of at least one angry kitten was coming from below. _

_She dropped down the shaft, ignoring the built in ladder and looked around. She'd seen part of this level through the doors when she'd come up both times, but it had been too dark to see much. It was mostly open, a few empty pens, a set of stairs, the mangers for the animals and a small closed in area. The tack room Billy had called it. There were several kittens meowing now and a dark multi-colored cat was rubbing against the door._

_"Hi. Are your babies in there?" The cat answered by doing a few circuits around Parker's ankles and pawing at the door. Parker opened the door and quickly discovered why Billy wore pants year-round. It was strange having the kittens rush her. Some had stopped climbing up her legs and jumped down when they realized it wasn't who they expected, but three hadn't cared and Chicago had limped his way over and sat at her feet. The adult cat had set up court and a good many of the kittens had descended on her._

_Scooping up Chi and juggling the three others that had taken up residence on her, she left Tippy and the rest in the Tack Room, door slightly ajar, and went out and made her way back around to Eliot and Billy._

_Billy chuckled as she looked back at Parker when the thief had returned to the wall. "Only four, I wouldn't have gotten away that easy. I've fallen asleep where they can get to me and had seventeen on me when I woke up."_

_An orange and white kitten decided Parker had gotten him close enough and he launched himself at the other woman, barely missing Elliot as he turned for a block. Billy caught the flying furball with practiced ease. "Hello, Dallas." Her voice was low and held a mix of amusement and annoyance. He settled himself on her shoulder and set about deafening her with his loud purrs. _

_"Who are these? Well, the white one's Chi, but the others…"_

_"The dark reddish one with no tail is Chi's sister Ami, Miami. The tabby is San Francisco or Frankie to most of us."_

_Parker had settled into the truck bed with the kittens, listening to the other two talk. Once and a while, she'd butt-in and describe one of the other kittens to Billy and Billy would tell her the name, what it was actually called, and which kittens were its littermates._

_Eliot had gotten a little more annoyed every time the conversation turned back to the cats. Billy had been impressed that Parker had noticed the differences between a few like Macon and Savannah or Dallas and Austin. That and she had seemed to be amused by annoyed Eliot too. She'd smiled a few times and had laughed once. Parker'd figured it would balance the conversation, since Billy liked talking about the animals and talking about Johnny Walters and his friends made her mad._

_Parker and the kittens wandered in and out of the area the rest of the afternoon, though Dallas seemed content to play the part of a living stole, never leaving his spot on Billy's shoulder. _

_The end of the afternoon had been rather abrupt, coming just after five. Billy had been leaning over to stir the mortar, when Parker had heard a car's engine in the distance. Billy's head had jerked up an instant later, "Ma!". _

_Eliot had looked confused for a moment and then he'd heard what both women had. "Are you...?"_

_An annoyed look had cut him off. "Wait 'til she heads in the house, before you head back. She always drops off her lunch box and bag in the house before she comes to see what I'm up to. She'll come straight across the driveway to the barn. If you head out the long way around, she'll never see you."_

_They had started to leave when the front door closed, but had hung back to listen._

_"Baby, where you at?" Both of them had smiled at the endearment._

_"Round back, Ma." The older woman had appeared and the similarity between the two was apparent. Her mother was a few inches shorter, thirty pounds lighter, and a good deal narrower across the shoulders, but the facial features and dark hair was a close match, though noticeably different. The older woman's black and silver hair was in a long braid and was stick straight, where Billy's dark brown hair was shoulder length and curled a good deal. Both sets of bangs tended to lay in odd directions._

_"Damn, you got a lot done today." Besides the two rows from the morning, they'd laid another one and a half that afternoon._

_"It's gonna rain the weekend. Hell of a storm supposedly. It'll never dry out if water gets down in it and it'll be a bitch to cover up with the wind comin' up the ridge."_

_"Good point, but don't over do it. You don't want heatstroke again." Mama Carlisle picked up the trowel and laid a line of mortar. Billy quickly grabbed a block._

_"I was on tarmac for five hours in hundred degree heat when that happened. But yeah, I'd hate to miss the fun Saturday. I get to dress up and get rained on. Uh, I'm drivin' up to Lexington tomorrow afternoon for some school thing, scholarship details, schedulin', whatever. You want me to do anythin' while I'm up that way?"_

_"Somethin' wrong?" The older woman wasn't as oblivious as her daughter hoped as they fell into a rhythm quickly._

_"Nah. Red tape and hoops. Just figured I'd save you a trip since I was goin' anyhow."_

_"I can think of a few errands. Gran needs some time yet fer supper. I think we could finish this course before then." The two women had become silent and the two observers had slipped away.*_

The house was dark except for a glow coming from windows facing the road on the top story and Parker moved in that direction. A covered porch ran the length of both levels on that side; the upper deck easily accessible by a set of stairs on the back. _No challenge at all._ Parker was met at the top of the stair by Lighthorse.

"Hi. I came to say hi to Billy."

The dog cocked his head and moved aside, returning to his lounge chair. Parker crept along, working out the layout out in her head, four rooms, the two on the far end being lit, with a door leading to a hall giving access. Slipping in, the room on her right had her room closed, the one on the right echoed with footsteps. The sound filtering through the partially open door. Parker quickly let herself inside.


	7. Chapter 7

AN- I'd like to thank all of you guys for sticking with me on this and VolceVoice who gives me amazing feedback and catches so many of my stupid mistakes. The delay is purely on me due to my life and own pickiness.

Chapter 7- It's In the Fire, That the Blade Is Born

"Wow, this is really empty." Parker looked around at the large room that was bare except for a full sized bed and a dresser.

Billy stopped her pacing at the other woman's voice. "We don't use it. Haven't since my sister took the last of her stuff. I was about eight or so. We haven't even needed it when family's visitin'."

"There are a lot of rooms." Parker peeked her head out the door and gazed down the hall.

"Seven bedrooms on this floor." Billy nodded. She sat on the sheet-less bed. "Do a little climbin' on the family tree and you'll find Robert Carlisle. Seventeen kids with his first wife and twelve with his second. Twenty-six had families of their own, no less than nine kids a piece. Family reunions require more planning than a NATO exercise. Naturally, we have the Homecomin' here at the Home Place."

"That's like three hundred people." Parker hopped up on the dresser and sat.

"Three hundred and thirty-one, if I recall correctly. I'd have to double check my family tree, but you get the idea. I only have a sister and a dozen first cousins. It's damn near unnatural. Granddad had five kids. His dad had seven. His granddad had eleven. Ma's older brother, Al, descends in an unbroken line of oldest sons. He's a town sort of guy, so Ma got the farm by agreement. This isn't my room you know. It's across the hall."

"I knew that." Parker nodded her head quickly. "Then why are you over here?"

"Pacin' helps me think. There's more room for it over here and less distractions. I've written many an essay in here with my laptop sittin' where you are. Been over here a lot lately."

Parker watched Billy rise and make another lap. "You've got a lot to think about, huh?"

Billy paused to lean against the corner of the walk-in closet. "Mmmmhmmm, for some reason bein' over here makes sense. There's somethin' off about my room. Well, besides the window that gets replaced Monday."

"What is it?" Parker cocked her head. Billy drug her hand through her suddenly shorter bangs. "You cut your hair."

"Ma did after supper. It's been needin' it. This way I'll look good tomorrow and Saturday." She shrugged. "Not sure why bein' over here feels right. Somethin' in the way the room feels. Almost like it's alive. An energy maybe. It's funny.

"You ever held somethin' old or been in some old place and felt its personality? Sometimes I handle Granddad's pump gun or his watch and I think I feel him. Stupid really. He'd been gone six years by the time I was born."

Parker could remember the way something felt alive in her hands. "Yeah. Maybe it works the other way."

Billy turned her gaze back to Parker from where she'd been running her fingers over the cream colored wainscoting. "The other way?"

"If your room is across the hall, doesn't that mean that this is the best room to use for-"

"I intend to. The other way..." The other woman stepped into the middle room and closed her eyes. "Humph, the other way..." She nodded a moment. "Makes sense." With a quiet smile, she headed to the door. "And I think I know why my room feels off." She reached for the doorknob of her own room.

Parker came along behind her, pausing inside the door to look at the poster on the open door. A black, angular airplane moving vertically in a twilight sky, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I'm at 80,000 feet and climbing..." was printed in script at the top, and "Blackbird" up one side.

That poster was simply a preview of what lay on the other side. Anyone walking into that room without knowing who it belonged to, would take one look and assume it was the bedroom of a twelve year old boy. Looking in the dresser drawers and closet would simply increase the age, not change the gender. A few battered stuffed animals in a rope hammock in one corner could be dismissed easily enough or overlooked, but you'd have to be blind to miss the armada of planes and spacecraft suspended from the ceiling by fishing line, dozens of tanks and a fleet of ships sitting on shelves along side regiments of miniature soldiers. The posters on the walls are similar to the one on the door, military hardware or paintings of battles. The starched, light blue shirt hanging on the closet door with a dark blue vest and dress pants, a tie depicting the constellation Orion and a old-looking airplane hanging over the knob, gave maturity to the room, along with the textbooks and computer setup.

Billy stood by her computer, holding a small stuffed dog, gazing at it with a gentle smile.

"Shouldn't that be with the others?" Parker pointed to the old toys on the wall.

"Nope. He's not mine. He was one of my first impulse buys though." She returned to reading the tag, murmuring "Machine washable" and "Infant safe" before tearing the tag off and dropping it in the trash. She tossed him onto her bed. She gazed around the room and started pulling things from their hiding places and tossing them along side the dog, a stack of model kits hid a pair of tennis shoes, clothes appeared from the back of drawers. After she'd worked her way through the whole room, she turned to Parker, now sitting on her bed looking at things. She stared a moment.

"What?" Parker asked unfolding items.

"I just...damn...I've never had it all together before. Hadn't realized what all I've picked up these last couple months. Where's my list?" She dug through a desk drawer, finally emerging with a legal pad.

Parker was teaming a pair of jeans with a blue and green polo shirt that were the same size, when Billy settled on the other side of the pile. "The sizes are all mixed together." The thief held up two shirts several sizes apart as a visual aid.

"I know. Like I said, impulse buys. They were on sale or clearance. Maybe I just liked 'em. I've got a sort of list of about what I should need and roughly when pieced together from the books, but really I got no idea what I've got." The dog and a few other toys went into their own small pile. A blanket went to one side. "That's the only blanket and, I think, that's all the toys."

Parker rummaged in the larger heap, mentally replaying the stream of items being tossed on the bed. "I think so, too. Oh, this is the same size as the shirt." Parker tugged the jacket out of the pile and put it with the outfit in her lap. Billy was scribbling things on the legal pad and made a few tick marks in the right places, before tossing it aside, scooping the toys and the blanket into her arms, and crossing the hall with them. Parker found a sweater vest and pair of dark pants in the same size as the others in her lap by the time the young woman returned.

"It should just be clothing left. I guess I should start at zero and work up from there, don't you? Most of it is either zero or three, I think. I'll need it first. You've got nine over there, right?" She pulled a lap-full of clothing towards her as she glanced at the thief's own lap.

"Nine-twelve", Parker double checked the tags. A red sweatshirt was tossed into her lap from Billy's pile. A package of socks followed. She was rearranging the stuff in her lap when she realized the other woman was silent and motionless. Parker looked across the pile and tried to figure out what she was seeing.

Billy stared down at a tiny pair of vinyl and felt cowboy boots, held gently upside in her hands. One index finger ran along the sole. Her breathing was heavy. It was was hard to tell behind the dark glasses, but Parker thought she might be blinking really fast.

A few swallows later, words slipped out no louder than a whisper. "There are days it doesn't seem real. When I actually have to listen to the recordin' of the Doppler on my phone to make myself believe it. When I have to hold the pair of socks I've been carryin' in my pocket as a reminder. And then there are times, like now, when it hits me so hard, I can't breathe. This is just...awesome, the way the word really means, amazin' and terrifyin' all at once. These are shoes, actual shoes that will have actual feet in them in less than a year. Feet attached to a person that small." She stroked them gently.

"They look just like the ones down there." Parker reached over the foot of the bed and pulled a similar looking gray and black boot from its place by the closet.

"Yeah, just like mine, but about a million times smaller. Had to have them when I saw them. They match my version of dress shoes. Anytime I need good shoes, I wear those or a pair of cordovan colored ones, dependin' on what I'm wearin'. Easter, meetings, graduation, Christmas, family things, I wear those. That's why I bought..." She looked at the pile for something and then quickly got up. "Years ago, I saw a sweatshirt I wanted, badly: 'The History of Aviation'." She opened a drawer and produced a blue sweatshirt with navy cuffs and collar littered with aircraft schematics. "Not exactly cheap and I'm hard on clothes, always have been, but Ma got for me, I was ten or so." Parker looked at the large sweatshirt, confused. "I took care of it. Saved it for church and Christmas Eve at my aunt's mostly, maybe a cousin's birthday party and somethin' happened that had never happened before. I outgrew it before I destroyed it. So, Ma hunted and found it again in a larger size. I've outgrown it three times. Ma's replaced it three times. I wear it to Aunt Joan's for Christmas Eve, every year. When Ma told me to pick out a couple of airplane shirts as part of my birthday this year, I saw this." She knelt next to the bed and pulled a box out. Opening the lid, she withdrew a tiny, but identical shirt. "I slipped it into the order. Three-Six was the smallest they had, but Ma said somethin' about me wearin' that size pretty quickly, if I recall. I'll have to buy a new one next year." She boxed the small shirt up again and set it with the other clothes on the bed.

"That's cool." Parker pulled a pair of pajamas in three-six out and tossed them on top of the box. Billy sifted through the pile she'd had in her lap and started on a second load when Parker bluntly asked , "So where's the father?" She gestured towards the outside world.

"I've got no idea who, let alone where to find him again. I'd best get used to this conversation. I'm bettin' I have it more times than I'd like in my lifetime. Too late now. I made my choice a long time ago. If I can't live with the consequences, I had no business taking the path." The young woman sorted a handful of camouflage shirts into the right piles. A hat and two pairs of pants in similar colors were next.

"Sophie would have a fit if she saw this." Parker looked at the clothes piled on the bed. "It looks like a miniature version of an outdoor store's inventory." Her eyes fixed on the piles of camo and dark colors, sprinkled with a lighter or brighter color now and then.

"What's wrong with it?"

Parker looked across the bed at the other woman, looking back at her in confusion.

"Couldn't it be a girl or can you tell already?" The look of abject horror was unmistakable as Billy dropped a hunter green onesie back in her lap and hurriedly reached over to cover Parker's mouth with her hand.

"It's too early to tell, but don't give it any ideas. I'm workin' off of mother's intuition or maybe just wishful thinkin'. Look around. Does it look like I'd know what to do if confronted with hair-braidin' or tea parties? I'm not stupid. I just don't think God is that cruel. I'm more of a guy than some of the guys I've slept with. I'm a tomboy, raised by a tomboy. Do you know the last time my clothes came from the girls' side of Wal-Mart? 'Cause I DON'T."

Billy rose from her bed and disappeared out her door. Parker heard her on the stairs, going part way down before coming back. She thrust a framed picture into Parker's hands. "April 5th, 1997, I'd just turned five. Ma wanted a picture, so I got stuffed into a dress my sister had from bein' a flower girl and drug to Sears. That was the last time I've worn anything remotely girly and it took a case of baseball cards and a kid's tool set as bribe to do it."

A little girl with missing teeth smiled from the frame; blue-gray eyes peeking through pale brown bangs with a reddish cast. The red and white dress fit her well, but even in the photograph, seemed horribly out of place.

"When I got old enough to drive, I wasn't real interested in gettin' a license. One of the women Ma worked with said to offer to buy me a 'cute, little car' if I would. Know what Ma told her? 'You tryin' to get me killed, Peggy? She don't want a car; She wants a '41 Willys Jeep with a machine gun mount, 'cause a tank ain't road legal.' I've always been that way.

"I was three. I think, when I came down to breakfast on my birthday and Ma and Gran had gotten me a doll and that stuff that goes with it. They figured if I had my own I might leave Josey Jay's alone. Sis still collects dolls. I've got no idea what they ended up doing with it. I tossed the doll in the cradle and I don't think I had anything to do with it ever again. I remember bein'...disappointed. They were just confused." Billy laughed at the memory, reaching under the bed again. "The cars Joes got me are right here." She flipped the lid back on the vinyl suitcase, revealing a trunk full of Matchbox cars. "I wanted to annoy my sixteen year old sister, not play with a doll. Sis knew. I guess they didn't figure a toddler was that devious." She ran he fingers over the tiny cars, before closing them up again. Instead of putting them away, she sat the case next to the door and went back to sorting.

"I'm gettin' settled with the idea, but I still have moments. Some things still rattle me." She never looked at Parker, simply tossing another shirt into the thief's lap. A pair of socks with sailboats on the cuffs tossed on the three-six finished the second lap-full and sent Billy gathering up another batch from the dwindling heap.

"You're scared." The statement was just that, a statement, not a question.

"I believe I used the word terrified earlier." There was no shame in her words, just simple honesty. She sighed, adding a folded sleeper to a pile.

"Of what? Babies aren't dangerous."

"Now there's a loaded question. No, babies are pretty low on the danger list, but that's no reason for me to be totally calm. I've got, what, two months and about a week of experience of bein' an adult and it ain't just me I'm responsible for now. I've got a whole damn list of reasons to freak out. I'm serious. I made a list." She fumbled through the legal pad until she came to a particular page. She held it out towards Parker with a "See!"

"You actually wrote a list?" Even Parker found that a little odd.

"Thought maybe if I had them in front of me, they'd be easier to deal with. Get them out of my head. Make them tangible. Give myself some distance. Every time something runs through my head in the middle of the night, I add it to the list and come back to it in the daylight. Some of them made me laugh when I crossed them out the next mornin'. Some of them have me wantin' to bang my head into the wall." Billy's eyes ran over the list, silently reminding herself of what lay ahead.

Parker was an expert at keeping things secret and the honesty confused her. "Why are you telling me this? You don't know me."

"That's probably why. There's nothin' between us to get messed up and I get an outside opinion. Besides, you asked and I don't lie. Ever. Hold back and throw unrelated facts into the mix so you can lie to yourself, yes. Say somethin' that ain't true, never. Never seen the point. There's nothin' worth havin' you can't get another way and if it's about not getting into trouble over somethin', either there's a good reason you shouldn't do it to begin with or the rule is stupid and needs ignored. No reason to lie either way."

The young woman turned her baseball cap backwards and peered over her sunglasses at the small print on a tag. Squinting a moment, she tossed the sleeper on the right pile before tugging the hat back over her eyes and pushing her glasses back into place.

The thief cocked her head at the behavior. "You don't like light."

Distributing the last of the pile, Billy rose and stretched. "Nope, I'm sensitive to light. Too much gives me a headache. I prefer the happy darkness. The trade off is I have fabulous night vision." She pulled out her desk chair and dropped heavily into it in reverse, resting her chin in the back of it. When she flexed her back, the popping sounds were painfully loud.

Parker looked up from where she was arranging clothes into outfits. "Ouch, that sounds painful."

"Probably is."

"Probably? You don't know? How can you not know? Aren't painkillers bad?"

"They are bad. I've never really needed them anyway. I broke seven ribs when I was in fourth grade. The school nurse sent me to back to class after recess with ice because I didn't seem to be in enough pain for them to be broken and I just...dealt with it. They healed wrong. Over the years, I quit feelin' them. Unless I do something major, they're fine. It's...odd. Feelin' them rub and knowin' it probably does or should hurt and not registerin' it. I've either gotten used to it or I suppress it without thinkin' about it. Either way. My legs are probably the same. 'Course they were a gradual thing after what I did." She never looked up from the floor, instead breathing deeply and relaxing into the sensation of muscles releasing.

"What did you do?" Parker was curious. The fact that both of Billy's legs turned outward was unmissable. The right one was almost completely sideways. Sitting astride the desk chair, with her knees flexed and her feet hooked over the support structure, was probably one of the most comfortable positions she could find.

Billy nuzzled the chair a moment and murmured something that sounded like "God, I love this chair" before she looked up at Parker. "I fell off the hay wagon and landed under it...while it was movin'. I was little. No more than four. The back wheel went over my legs. The ground was soft so they didn't break. They...twisted. The bones and cartilage weren't fixed yet, so they gave. I just got up and limped back to the house. I was fine, sore, bruised, yet still walkin', but, over the years, they turned out. No one even noticed until Ma seen I'd worn a bare spot up on the inward side of of my left shoe of a pair of suede high-tops. My right heel hits there when I walk. Not always, but sometimes. Depends on my gait.

"Had a set of x-rays done. Fixin' it ain't worth it. I'd have to relearn to walk a different way afterward. As long as I wear high top shoes or boots or go barefoot, I'm fine. I'm clumsy and have a high pain threshold. Not sure if that's the reason or a coincidence. I dislocated a finger last fall and didn't know it 'til somebody said something. Just popped it back and went on." The young woman shifted slightly in her chair, reaching for a piece of paper on her desk and scribbled something on it.

Parker wasn't sure what to say. Sophie would know, but she didn't. _Change the subject, Parker._ That's what you were supposed to do when conversation got awkward. "What did you write down?"

"A note to remind me I need a tube of drosophila. I'm nearly out. I can pick then up tomorrow on my way back."

"What? Dry Sophias?" Parker was confused.

"Dro-so-phi-la, fruit flies. My lizards eat 'em. I raise the crickets and mealworms, but I haven't set up to raise the fruit flies yet. It's on my list."

"Where are they? What kind?" Parker was curious and momentarily forgot her foray into infant fashion coordination.

Billy chuckled and rose from her chair. Stretching a moment, she grabbed something off her desk and handed it to Parker as she lowered herself back to her old spot on the mattress. Parker studied the tiny, reptilian features peering at her from the pictures. "They're sharing a five gallon critter keeper down in the sunroom. It was the only room in the house warm enough for them without added heat. One Bahama anole and a long-tailed lizard. They were part of my birthday. I'm setting up a ten aquarium as something more permanent. Probably won't set it in here though. Maybe the north bedroom. I can keep the door locked. Might not be a bad idea. Keep things away from little fingers." She pulled the first stack towards her and started figuring out what she had in zero-three.

"You really like animals." Parker handed the pictures back and Billy dropped them on her nightstand.

"I do. Helps that they like me. I've been told if I can't make a pet out of something, no one can." She sorted the clothing by type, made sure it was folded, and then recorded it on her list.

"Are you going to do all of this tonight? Don't you have to sleep?" Parker gestured at the stacks of clothes.

"Can't sleep. Might as well be useful. Besides I'd still have to put it away. I can just do it right now and be done." After she'd come up with a system, it went quickly. Dropping the notepad, she stacked the clothes and disappeared into the other room with them.

Parker took the time to look around the room. The bed was wedged in a corner. The nightstand sat between it and the door. A desk was crammed into the nook created by the walk in closet. There was a dresser along one wall. A second, L-shaped desk sat under one window and there were bookshelves any place one would fit. The wainscoting in this room had been stained instead of painted and the walls painted a royal blue. The bedding was digi-camo. It seemed only fitting with everything she'd noticed earlier. The clothing was t-shirts and cargo pants. It was a mix of dark colors and camouflage. Parker couldn't help but glance at the clothing on the bed. The parallels were obvious. Even the slogan shirts were present, most notably, a onesie reading "Any more attitude and there'd be two of me" and Billy's "I'm not prejudiced. I hate everyone." t-shirt.

Then Parker noticed them. Books. Everywhere. The shelves were packed. There were boxes and stacks wherever there was room. There were paperbacks, hardbacks, and magazines, new and crisp, old and worn, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, mostly English, but a few in Spanish and German. One looked to be in Polish. A magazine on computers, still wrapped in plastic, laid on the corner desk. A hundred and twelve year old copy of Prescott's Mexico was on top of it. The written word took up so much of the room, it essentially became the background.

Parker was examining the contents of the other desk when she heard Billy return. "That'll be a Supermarine Scimitar when it's done. It'll be a while. It requires all sorts of fun chemicals to finish. Won't be working on it anytime soon. I miss it. I do what I can, research, mark things on the parts, little things. Mostly to hold me over. Scratch the itch."

"There are a lot of them." Parker quietly started counting the miniatures to herself.

Billy stepped into the room, took the photos from the nightstand and placed them back on her desk. "Been at it a while. I was seven when I talked my way into that one." She pointed to a blue and white fighter plane. "I was hooked. After that was the Blackbird, the Marauder, the Shuttle, Enterprise, Phantom, Harrier, Lancer, HMS Tiger..." Billy's finger followed her words. "Even tried cars with police cruiser and General Lee. Didn't care for it." Billy dropped onto her bed and pulled the next group of clothes to her and began sorting. "Besides everything on my mind and my meeting, well later today, the chronic insomnia would probably had me up anyway. What about you? What brings you all the way here this late?"

Parker said nothing. She had taken position in the desk chair and turned away from the other woman, seemingly fixated by the gray plastic spread out on the desk. Picking up on of the larger pieces, she studied it. Sure enough, colored lines of several shades marked the surface.

"I get it. Sometimes you just need to regroup. Ma's lost track of me more times than she can count. I disappear somewhere with something to read or a sketchbook for a while and turn up when I'm ready. I've been doin' it a lot myself lately. I ain't gonna begrudge anybody that." Billy gathered the now folded clothes and took them across the hall to the open dresser drawers.

Parker's gaze shifted from the piece of plastic in her hand to the window in front of her. The radiating cracks from the tiny hole were barely visible in the night, illuminated only by the lamps in the driveway and the room. The wear of the chaise lounge on the other side could be made out even in the poor light. "You spend a lot of time out there."

"I did. I was out there the night..." The voice barely raised above a whisper. "Only reason I wasn't sittin' there was I was runnin' to get to Big'en when he went to squealin'. My copy of Blue Sea of Blood is still layin' out there. Haven't felt like gettin' it." The younger woman's barefooted tread came towards the thief and there was a rattle on the nightstand and it left again. Parker heard her on the stairs and then she returned, dropping back on the bed. "You read much?", came from the bed.

"I read manuals and stuff. There are some other books I like." Parker put the plane back on the desk and turned the chair around. "Eliot saw me reading one of the others once and said they were for kids, because it had pictures. I like pictures."

"So do I. I've got a visual memory. In fact, I think I've got a book you'd like to borrow." Billy cleared her lap and ducked out the door again. She was gone a few minutes, before she returned and pushed a small, thick book into Parker's hands. The thief looked at it, _Great Illustrated Classics __Oliver Twist__ by Charles Dickens._

"I've heard of him. He wrote the Christmas book with the ghosts. This has pictures!" Parker thumbed through the book.

Billy was working on the last stacks on her bed. "That's the idea. The series takes those books that are really famous and makes them easier to understand and adds a drawing to every other page. They're meant as a bridge from kid's books to grownup books. I get the feelin' this one will speak to you. If you get that one done, I've got about thirty more.

"One year, Ma gave me one everyday as my...advent? Not exactly Advent really. I get some little something, starting the first of December, every day until Christmas. I got the rest of them on Christmas. I was five, I think. Ma still does it for me and Sis both. Something we'd like or could use, a pack of pens, a keyring, a bottle of paint in my case. I can always use paint. Ma leaves a box of wrapped stuff with Sis on Thanksgiving and I find something somewhere left for me everyday, by my plate, in my clothes basket, coat pocket, shoes. She used to leave them on my pillow when I was little. Still does sometimes. Nothing over about three dollars, but I love it anyway." Billy's gaze turned to a calender on the far wall. "I guess I should keep an eye out for two dozen little things myself. Enjoy the book." Billy turned back to the task and Parker opened to the first page.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Eliot had breathed a sigh of relief when Sophie had brewed a cup of tea and gone out onto the back porch with it. He wanted to talk to Hardison about what he'd found without Sophie overhearing. He wasn't sure how the grifter would react, but he didn't think she'd be happy for one reason or another. Besides, the woman had enough on her mind and he figured they could do this without her. If they needed to grift, even Parker or Hardison could convince these idiots.

Slipping into the chair next to Hardison, he leaned in close. "What'd you find?"

"Let me finish sending Nate what he wanted...and there. What I found...", the young hacker switched windows, "is enough to leave me wondering how these guys are walking around free. It ain't that they haven't been caught, they just get away with it when they do.

"They've all been involved in a major crash or two at some point. They've got every traffic offense I can think of, plus- minor consumption, drug possession, petty theft, battery, and public indecency, just to name a few things they've actually been _convicted_ of. The thing is when I pulled the particulars, I can't figure out how they got these charges. They always get the minimum sentence on a lesser charge. Danvers was pulled over for going ninety, blew twice the limit, and had half a pound of pot on the front seat. He got reckless driving, minor consumption, and a minor possession charge. Things aren't adding up."

"Somebody is pullin' strings for these little punks. The question is who and why. All three should've been in juvie or jail before any of this started. This is bigger then three little bastards runnin' loose. A lot bigger. Can you send this to Nate?"

"Eliot, the man is in a hospital, in Sterling's custody, and you want him to look at this?"

"I just want a consult. It ain't that they're not getting' caught, they're not getting' punished. Somethin' dirty is goin' on in the system. Somebody is protectin' them and I want to know why. Nate has his flaws, but he knows this stuff. Besides, it'll give him a distraction. I doubt he's got a lot to do right now."

"Fine, man, I'll pass it on. Give me a minute."

Eliot pulled a notepad and pen to him and started piecing things together. The reports were there. They were being caught, but the arrest never went anywhere. Most of the cops looked clean. If they weren't, the reports wouldn't have been filed in the first place. Whoever was running this had to be a higher up, either in the prosecutor's office or on the bench.

"Hardison, did any of these go to trial? Did they use the same judge, prosecutor, bailiff?"

"Give me a minute. I'm going as fast I can."

"Fine. Just do it. Can you get a list of the cops, deputies;... basically every one of the 'good guys'. We can go down the list and figure out who's dirty and who's not and go from there."

The older man moved to the kitchen cupboards and began double checking the supplies. Billy had offered to do some shopping for the team in Lexington and Eliot wanted to have the list ready. _I __also want those bastards and I don't care who I have to bring down with them. This is just going to get worse if nobody does anything and it's going to get ugly out here first._

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Nate immersed himself in the intel Hardison had sent on his situation. The cases were heavily intertwined. If one was shaken, they'd all feel it. Maybe if he arranged for a few tremors, he could get Sterling to pull off the team's trail. He really wished he had a pen and paper to plot this out, but this way was safer. There would be nothing physical for anyone to find. The inconvenience was worth it to keep his team safe.

A flashing at the top of the screen got his attention.

_ 'Eliot wants you to look at something. It looked hinky to us, but we can't decide just how hinky.'_

Nate raised an eyebrow. At least, they were staying busy. Looking at the records Hardison sent him, he quietly filed away the rough location of their hideout, the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. It looked like he had the rap sheets, school records, and basic background on three teenage boys. Three very busy juvenile offenders that should have been locked up and yet had avoided the inside of a cell. They were right to suspect something hinky, as Hardison said. Very hinky indeed. The boys didn't come from wealthy or well-connected families so they themselves must be the reason they were getting special favors. The question then became: what were they doing for whom?

There wasn't a pattern. At least not in these three alone, but these boys weren't the only only ones with this arrangement. That he was sure of. They were too unimportant by themselves. Only with a larger purpose, did this kind of patronage make sense.

_'Hardison, you're right. Something big is going on. These three are low level players, but I can't see what the game is. They're probably couriers or something along those lines. Look for guys with records showing similar patterns in the county. If we can see what the related crimes are maybe we can see the big picture. Good luck and get rid of all evidence of this job off of here. I want it gone __by morning with no trace. Keep your heads down. Good choice though. Even I wouldn't guess Sophie __would pick there.'_

Nate felt a certain amount of pride. Even on the run, his team were trying to be good guys, well as good as they got. He wasn't the only one who'd changed for the better. Turning his mind back to his situation, he resumed planning for their safety with new commitment. He might just need a bigger distraction for Sterling.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Hardison quickly compiled the list of employees in the local police departments, the prosecutor's offices, and those at the courthouse. The list wasn't long. The area was fairly rural. There were only a few town officials; most were at the county level. That made it easy to find suspects, but it would be harder to find someone willing to say anything about it. It was a fairly close-knit group. Nobody wanted to admit someone they knew was dirty.

The list of criminals in on it was harder, much harder. Every single criminal record had to have the police report compared against the charges and the sentences. It was going to take a while. It might be easier if he wrote a program... Part of his mind turned to what parameters the program would need and how it would best work.

He passed the list of potential outlaws hiding behind white hats to Eliot and started defining the variables of his search. If they had gotten a minimum sentence or had a different charge than the one on the police report, it got flagged. If the case got thrown out, it got a closer look. The list was growing by the second and he hadn't even started on the traffic database yet. Tickets were thrown out all the time. This was ridiculous. There were hundreds of names here already.

He stood from his chair and stretched. This required more orange soda. Stepping past Eliot on his way to the fridge, he glanced back at the other man studying the names and profiles intently. "You want something, man?"

"I'm good. So far, I'm sure we can eliminate the deputy that filed Billy's report, but that's it." He put the deputy's information to one side.

"Not a surprise there, really." Hardison cracked the seal. "I think he's related to Billy somehow. The Carlisles and Howards go way back. I mean a marriage license older than the Louisiana Purchase way back. The Howards are big on law enforcement. Have been for _centuries_? It's freaky, man. Sheriffs, deputies, marshals, whatever, at some point, a Howard has been it. There was a thing in the local paper for the last family reunion, a brief history, important members, that sort of thing. The family is huge, but pretty tight. I checked. They didn't call 911 or dispatch. They called Trey Howard directly."

The long-haired hitter nodded. "They wanted it made a priority so they kept it in the family. It's one kind of pressure to call a cop and ask about leads, but if you can call the guy's mom and have her lean on him, that gets his attention."

"Never too old for your mama to lay guilt on you." Hardison nodded. "He could have went all out on these three because of family loyalty, but his record looks solid. He's the go to guy when something happens out here. Seriously, four years ago, a couple boys knocked over the mailbox and made it two miles before they got picked up and spent the entire summer doing hard labor for the local fire company. Three hundred hours of community service in three months in exchange for having their records expunged."

"Okay, we know he's an honest cop. Look and see how the prosecutor's office is about listening to his recommendations. If they listen to this guy pretty often, then when they go against him, it means something."

"I see what you're sayin', use this as our baseline. Look at the guys that got it easy and at the ones lettin' 'em off." The young man went to accessing files. _I think we've got something here, but I'm not liking where this is going. We're going to need Sophie and I'm not sure Eliot is willing to bring her in. Where's Parker? It's going to take both of us to get him to agree._

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Sophie hadn't been certain what was on her mind when she decided to brew a cup of tea and excuse herself to the porch after dinner. She remained in one of the chairs, gazing at nothing, long after her tea was gone. It seemed everything was on her mind. Somehow she'd spent the last several hours contemplating the parts of her life she'd been unable to find the clarity to consider as she'd traveled the world. It appeared love wasn't the only thing that you tended to find when you stopped looking.

As the hours passed and the light grew dimmer, the answers grew sharper. She could see the things that had driven her to make the choices she had, right and wrong. The things she wished she could change and the things she would never change if she could were so clear, she wondered why they seemed so hard to find before. She remained in her thoughts even after the porch light was turned on and Parker settled onto the porch railing with a book.

Somewhere along the way the opinions and choices of other people had started to matter to her for reasons other than the con. She still hadn't isolated that moment when the other four had become so important to her. With Nate, it had been a gradual thing she supposed. Bits and pieces built up over years, but she'd bonded with the other three at a greatly accelerated pace. Those turning points brought her here. They had created a new version of the world as she knew it and, now, somehow, she'd fallen into this mad version of that world. One where Nate was self-sacrificing instead of a drunken ass and Parker read Dickens.

"Parker, where did you get that?" Sophie shifted in the deck chair to see Parker more easily, smoothing the throw in her lap as she got comfortable again.

The blonde never looked up from the novel. "Billy lent it to me. She said it might 'speak to me', but it doesn't have a mouth. Maybe she was tired and said it wrong?"

Sophie chuckled. "She said it right, Parker. She meant that the story might mean something special to you. She might be right about that." Sophie quietly mused to herself.

She'd been surprised, three years ago, when she'd gotten pulled into the gaze of a fifteen year old girl from the foothills in Eastern Kentucky and found that the only words capable of describing what she'd seen in them were "an old soul". The experience that peered out from behind dark glasses was terribly mismatched with the youthful face. The girl one saw seemed naïve at times, but the woman who'd been watching the grifter then had seen through Sophie's persona like it hadn't been there to begin with and Sophie had wondered later if that person had looked right through the lies the older woman told herself as well. She wouldn't have doubted that for an instant. The infrequent notes and messages between them had silently supported her appraisal and, now, being back near the other woman who had lived three more years, but seemed to have experienced ten, she was certain.

Every time the Sophie was around Billy or saw the results of her words or actions, it reinforced that instinct from three years before, the words conveyed silently: "_Don't worry about your secrets, I know them, and they don't really interest me." _ Any one that could look at someone and know them so intimately, so easily, and yet was incapable on a fundamental level of using that against them, was someone to keep close.

Over the years, Sophie had come to the conclusion that the questions Billy had asked her in the bathroom of the convention center hadn't been about determining her motives at all. She'd already known them. Asking Sophie about them had had a far subtler and deeper purpose. Whatever answers she'd taken from those questions had been enough that three years later, with little contact, she'd unquestioningly offered safe haven from half a dozen police agencies to her and three people she had vouched for.

Despite whatever issues were going on in her own life, Billy had managed to put Elliot and Hardison at ease and seemed to actually be making a friend of Parker. Sophie wasn't an idiot. She knew the guys had done some background checks on their host. She knew they'd find little to make them suspicious. She also knew they could have simply asked. Billy didn't really hide things. Then again, people normally felt awkward asking personal questions, even though Billy probably wouldn't be fazed answering. Perhaps she needed to have a chat with her young friend when she got the chance again. It seemed impolite to her to be ignoring their host that way, especially as she'd been the one to make contact. Maybe she'd pull the girl aside tomorrow when she brought supplies from Lexington.

Glancing in the window and seeing both men's heads bowed in conversation, she turned back to Parker. "Those two are up to something or, should I say, the three of you are."

"Can't say. Eliot is being Nate. He'll tell you if we need you." The blond thief seemed rather immersed in the book she'd borrowed.

Sophie thought a moment. "I suppose you also know what is going on with Billy, as well."

There was a nod in reply.

"But you won't tell me because it's her secret." The woman's ponytail swayed side to side as she shook her head. Sighing the grifter made up her mind to answer both of those questions tomorrow. "So, what do you think of the book so far?"


	8. Chapter 8

First off, I'm still alive and plugging along. Still working on borrowed computers and back up files. At one point, I was trying to recombine two different versions of the same file since I had somehow managed to copy it and was working on both! There was also a broken hand in there, but here it is. Chapter 8 in all its glory. I'm sorta zen when I write. I write as it comes, out of sequence, and fit things together later. The characters and the idea take me where they will and somehow it works at least you all seem to think so. No excuses for being so late, but if you're still with me, would 20000 words plus help ease the pain? That and knowing chapter 9 is about 4200 words already? I've got the broad strokes worked out, so I'm only filling in details now, but there are a lot of strokes. Shout outs to VolceVoice who gave me the push to start this and CeredenFlame who is always that extra little nudge to keep me going. I'll leave you to the unbetaed chapter that didn't want to end. If you find any mistakes I missed, feel free to drop me a line. I'm on to 9.

Chapter 8- For The Innocence Lost In Our Youth

Hardison felt his confidence sink just a little bit lower with every new piece of information he found. He still hadn't untangled the whole mess, but he had come to a conclusion. It reminded him of a sewer. It was full of all kinds of nasty things and they all stank.

He'd cast his net as wide as he could and started winnowing it down from there. From a database of every criminal complaint filled in the county in the last twenty years by every police agency, covering everything- traffic citations up to a guy that took a shotgun to his cheating wife and her lover, juvenile records included, he dove in from the place Eliot suggested and looked at every incident Deputy Trey Howard was involved in.

The hacker had created a matrix listing each offender by the number of times Howard had been involved and by how frequently they had appeared on the list as a whole. He began with the one hit wonders and had finished with the ones who made a career out of it. Even with one time, out of state traffic violations and the similarly quickly dismissed incidents making up at least a third of the list, it still took him until midnight to get through Howard's entire case log. That did give him a very good set of new parameters to work with, at the very least.

He then approached the rest of the database in an effort to reduce the overall bulk before he tried going through the cases of individual officers again. One time traffic only violators were almost instantly eliminated. With it being a small county bisected by a main, east-west state highway, a good portion of which belonged to either a national park or the mine, traffic offenses provided at least two-thirds of all incidents. Habitual drunks were also plentiful and just a quickly crossed off. He'd almost been relieved at how many unsuspicious reports he tossed out.

The juvenile records had come next. They took longer to comb through, but a healthy majority were tossed. He'd thrown out any offender that was currently under the age of sixteen. He'd figured he was safe in assuming that being able to have a driver's license was probably a requirement. While the computer had been assembling a list of the remaining offenders with five or less charges filled against them and no previous criminal records, he'd caught a nap.

At three o'clock, he'd been back at it and, as it neared four, he became certain he'd ruled out every possible offender who he could definitively eliminate. The list of those left had been used to generate a second list of those in the legal system who they'd crossed paths with and who could possibly be involved. He'd sent out snooper programs to find out every thing he could on the defendant side of the equation and turned to the legal end. Removing Trey Howard from the list since he'd already been vetted, the hacker weighted the new list by frequency and opened new windows.

A magistrate who'd presided at a single juvenile case and had had a heart attack midway through and died twenty years ago was quickly checked off. Prosecutors and judges who'd popped up only a few times and had taken a hard line or, at least, a just one weren't suspect. The list of potentials in the entire law system dropped to under two dozen by four-thirty. When he'd gotten through the easy eliminations, he checked back with his snoopers.

A minor with a string of petty offenses that suddenly disappeared from the case docket coincided with being sent to live with his father in Ohio and not with a sudden friend in high places. One man's year and a half long string of bar brawls and other alcohol related crimes with lenient sentencing ended with the death of his father after a long and drawn out bout with cancer and his returning to Louisville full time. He was halfway through deeming one case as "still questionable" when Eliot came downstairs to start breakfast.

"I'm makin' omelets. You want the usual?" Eliot wasn't mincing words this morning.

"Yeah, man. I've got it reduced to maybe seventy offenders and nin...seventeen in the system." His latest cross-check cleared the ADA at the time and a Family Court Judge. The mysterious dropping of all charges against a sixteen year old, even one for battery, was less a mystery when his enrollment in a military school in Mississippi coinciding with the same time surfaced. That eliminated him and the court officials.

"Keep at it. I'd like to be able to update Nate and do some hands on investigatin' when Billy leaves for Lexington this afternoon." Eliot was taking out his frustration on the chopping block.

"I gotch you. I'm going as fast as I can and I'm quicker with every pass. I will have you something to hit by lunch time." He pulled up the second list and went back to the less frequently occurring names to try to narrow it more. "The way it looks now, I'm sure the county prosecutor is in on it. Whatever the game is, Brent Haywood is a major league player. His name comes up the most often and it isn't looking like it's just because of the job."

"We might do some scoutin', but a break in will have to wait. I want to know what's goin' on before we do something that might get noticed. As soon as you have your lists narrowed down, I want you to send Nate a copy. Is there a way for him to leave us messages? We can just leave him a note, but..." Eliot didn't elaborate. He didn't have to.

"I think I can rig up somethin' like a message board to exchange notes on within the operating system's partition." Hardison opened a file to start spinning code.

"I don't need to know how, man." Eliot started browning bits of meat in a skillet, the leftover bacon from yesterday and equal amounts of diced ham and loose sausage from paper-wrapped packages. All the meat was from the local meat locker. The hitter would have to check it out if he got the chance. Somebody knew their job and knew it well.

"Fine. I got it. Give me a refill." The younger man shook the empty bottle of orange soda as Eliot moved towards the refrigerator. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone leaned over his shoulder to place a new bottle on the table.

"Here." Parker smiled at him as she moved towards the small shared bathroom.

"Parker, you've gotta stop doin' that. You'll hurt someone that way. You want the usual?" The older man chastised from his place at the counter. He diced the cheese instead of grating it. It was just too soft.

"Yeah." Parker slipped into the bathroom, the door barely making sound behind her.

"Eliot," the young hacker kept his voice low. "I really don't like what I'm seein', man. I've barely scratched the surface of this thing and I've already got bribery, blackmail, and extortion. If drug dealers and organized crime aren't dirty enough already for some folks. They have to go and get mixed up with lawyers and politics. This is the kind of job where we need everyone on deck and we all have to bring our A game. We're a man down and none of us have our heads on straight." Hardison wasn't usually a pessimist when it came to the job, but, after recent events, he had to be a realist.

"I get it, Hardison. I do." Eliot sighed and leaned against the counter. "We can't just let this go. It's been a long time since we could just let this pass. If we just stumbled onto this, we'd do something. If someone came to us and asked us to do something, we wouldn't even think about backin' off. Thing is, she didn't ask us to do anything. _We_ came here askin' _her_ to do something and she did it. With everything she's got going on, she didn't even blink at four potential counts of aidin' and abettin. Maybe this job is too big, but maybe, just maybe, we can do something to make things a little easier on her. Either way, find out what you can and send it to Nate so we can figure out what the hell is goin' on." The hitter was angry enough at this point he hadn't noticed that his voice had risen or that Parker and Sophie were in the room.

"I agree. I know I certainly would like to know what's going on." Sophie was leaning on against the doorway in her robe, clothes draped over her arm.

"We gotta tell her, Eliot. This is Red Alert, Battle Stations time." Hardison looked at Eliot with as much seriousness as he could muster.

After a long moment the other man nodded and turned back to his stove. "Okay. I'll tell you what we have...at lunch. Hardison is still diggin' and I want Nate to have a chance to look at what we've got. I need some time to think."

"Alright. But no more delays." The Brit nodded her thanks at the younger men and strolled into the recently vacated bathroom.

Parker made her way to the table and perched on the edge next to Hardison and gave him a worried look through damp hair. "It's bad isn't it."

"It's never good, Parker, or we wouldn't be the ones doing it. We just haven't figured out how bad." He gently patted Parker's knee, braced himself with a long gulp of orange soda, and uploaded what he had on their potential offenders and the new messaging software to Nate. _Eliot's right. The least we can do is look into it._

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Nate was enjoying the frustration Sterling was trying to hide just a little too much. The newly admitted thief had been working quite consciously to be awake most of the night and sleep most of the day. Not only did that give him maximum privacy, but that meant he was asleep or could fake sleep quite convincingly anytime Sterling tried to visit. It was all he could do to not give himself away when his old friend had shown up late yesterday afternoon demanding to speak to him and the large and matronly nurse in charge of the unit had informed him that he would speak to _her_ patient when she decided he was up to it. After a few minutes of bluster from the Interpol agent, Nurse Sandy had made it clear that after forty years married to a career, enlisted Marine and raising two more, he could bark all he want, but he wasn't getting in. Nate mentally made a note to make sure she "won" a trip or car in the future.

He knew as long as the other man was focused on him, he wasn't out hunting for the others personally and it would take every trick he had to come close to finding them, so his underlings didn't stand a chance. If Nate didn't know them the way he did, the way they were now, he'd never come close to guessing what they were doing. Sterling might come close, but he'd never manage it, especially with Nate occupying such a big part of his vision. The simple fact that he was looking for them individually, internationally, was enough to put Nate at ease. He'd expected them to scatter again and for each go to ground in some remote lair that they had created for themselves. Somehow that they would stay together for comfort and safety and remain close to Nate had escaped him. Sterling had never really understood them individually and the new, team dynamic eluded him spectacularly.

Nate reached out and took his e-chart down and looked for anything new. Hardison had definitely been busy. In addition to several hours worth of reading, the hacker had included an app that acted as a cross between an instant messenger program and message board. He quickly tested it by letting them know what he'd overheard from the guards and from a conversation Sterling had had on the phone while he'd been waiting for a doctor to come and update him. A few obvious red herrings and a couple harder to find false leads that showed the four as separate and on the move would certainly keep their current adversary distracted. He bid a farewell with a promise to check in once he'd read through what he had and then turned towards the task itself.

The mastermind had read through nearly three-quarters of the provided background before he had a clear picture of what they'd stumbled upon and, when he did, the feeling of calm left him. A simple plan hidden well by seemingly honest power and fueled by the desire for more wasn't exactly new to them, but this was deep-seated and reached into the underworld for both income and muscle. These situations rarely went well with him watching every twitch and, this time, he'd be forced to restrict his role to planning only and hope he covered every contingency. He wanted desperately to pull the plug on this and deal with it later, but he knew that the rest of the team was too close to the situation and there was enough anger at what he'd done that the mere fact Eliot had reached out to him for guidance was enough to tell him the hitter was well aware just how dangerous the situation was.

As soon as he'd read through everything and double checked some facts from what he had available, he started trying to lay it out for his team and get Hardison to dig deeper into certain areas. This was one of those times when all of them needed to know everything, because they would be the ones that had to deal with developing situations instead of him. Suddenly, a gunshot, prison-time, and Sterling were the least of his worries.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Only him team, who had frequently had luck on their side when on the wrong side of justice, never seemed to catch a break when they were trying to do the right thing. On the run and they had managed to take shelter in a backwater with dirty cops and a county prosecutor trying to run a crime racket with the local drug distributor to finance his political career. It was a job that needed done, but it was a hell of a time to do it.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Eliot found that he was starting to take comfort from the routine he'd settled into here. With things as they stood, he needed some comfort. What Hardison had found was huge, and growing by the hour. Sophie was a necessity and, as angry as he was at Nate for running a con on them, he would have preferred the older man's part to be more hands on in this.

Dismantling the meth operation would be a job in itself and they were still sorting out everything else Vaughan had running besides the drugs, on top of Haywood's creative campaign funding. He had promised to bring Sophie into the loop at lunch when they had the final prep meeting before they went out on their first recon. He wouldn't know exactly what the afternoon looked like until Hardison finished mapping out every storage unit and rentable, out-o-the-way space in the county and the hacker was still finding illicit pies that the prosecutor was partaking in. If the money trail proved sound, then there was car theft, money laundering, and extortion going on too.

He'd been thankful when, after breakfast, he'd left Hardison and Sophie to clean up while Hardison's programs sniffed out who knew what kind of dirt or Nate would figure out. He'd traveled in silence with Parker along the now familiar path to the back of the barn. It would give him a chance to think and burn off some of the energy he felt building up. The feeling of accomplishment it gave him was a bonus.

Billy was already at it. Neither of them were really surprised by that. The scene was a very familiar one at this point. The laptop was open off to one side; the earpiece letting her know if it needed her attention. Mortar was mixed, the back of the truck loaded, and the vehicle had been backed into position at the starting end for the next row.

The young woman wasn't in the battered truck though. She was at the far end, back to them and a ratchet's click echoed in the still morning, bouncing off the cement slab and the masonry of the lower part of the barn and rising wall. When she had pocketed the ratchet, she turned, placing one foot against the nearly finished post, and grasped the steel piece she had just bolted in place, shaking it violently to make sure that it was tight. Apparently satisfied, she started heading for the barn, waving at them when she spotted them coming up on the slab from the grass lane. Once she was gone from sight, they heard a sliding door open and moments later she reappeared, pulling a large black gate behind her. Seconds before Eliot could break into a run and take part of the weight from her, he saw that the trailing end had a wheel affixed. When they reached her, she'd already seated the fixed end on its hinges and was feeding steel pins through the top of the hinge posts to ensure the gate wasn't lifted off unexpectedly. They moved in next to her just as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. The gate itself was a basic sixteen foot pipe gate with an assist wheel that could have came from any one of the half dozen farm supply stores in the county, but the figures in appliqued sheet metal would catch anyone's eye. The large shapes that he was certain matched the outlines of the house and barn were towards the bottom, though the lowest opening was totally unobstructed, allowing any small animal like a cat or small game to run through it to safety. Around the two largest shapes, and the repeated double C motif in the center, were animals. Horses and ponies, a mule, a cow, a pig, pretty much anything you would see looking out into the fields here were arranged so there wasn't an opening much more than a fist in size. Made of a heavier gauge of metal than required and covered in an oven baked on flat black coating, it was both beautiful and durable.

"Part of the requirements for my final grade in my advanced weldin' class were two projects that had to be in excess of nine square feet apiece and use over so many pieces. This and the twin gate on the drive were mine. Mama always wanted that kind of gate for the front drive, but even the basic ones were more than she'd ever really afford. I asked her back last spring what she'd want if they could be anything and, minus a few details, it was them. I talked my cousin down the road into hidin' them in their pole barn until Mother's Day and, the night before, her husband, he's a mason, came out and helped me hang 'em. I thought Ma was gonna bawl when we came out to go to church. I hid this one 'til the next month on her birthday. I made a pair of double stands for birdfeeders out of the scrap they left. I set one where Gran could see it from her bedroom window and the other one from her rocker in the kitchen as her Mother's Day. I've gotten a lot of use out of those classes and now Pa's weldin' equipment ain't just sittin' in the garage no more. I've fixed a hoe, a hay rack, and a side support on the manure spreader just this spring. Keeps me out of trouble, as Gran would say."

She offered the two a satisfied smile, but there was a stain of blush on her cheeks at the surprised looks she'd received once she revealed she'd done the work herself.

"I thought you said there were two sets of gates like the ones out front." Eliot's mind went to the night they'd arrived, as she started to swing the gate closed and chain it to the wooden post of the remaining panel fence.

"More like one and three-quarters. I started on a second set for the driveway that's behind the house and ain't finished it yet. It's layin' out on the floor of the garage under a tarp. I got distracted by other things." She gave her head a sharp jerk towards the stretch of fence she was effectively fortifying. She tossed the fence panel that had once functioned as a gate onto a pile of displaced panels with more force than necessary. Her anger hadn't faded, even if she'd buried it and was channeling it into something constructive.

"It sprouted more metal." Parker was looking at the posts at the opposite end that now had an extension of the re-bar reinforcement that hadn't been there yesterday, but had been added in with the two courses that been lain since they'd stopped working for the day.

Eliot studied the change and, after a few moments, looked from the fence to the wall of the barn it paralleled and made a few mental calculations.

"They aren't posts. Well, not completely. They're pillars, too. You're lookin' to bring the barn roof out over that strip there with the stock chute and you're gonna use the fence to hold up the end."

Billy nodded as she checked the progress of the drying mortar and settling fill at the near end of the wall. "It's something my granddad always wanted done. The rain comes off roof there and it rotted down the chute and we had to replace boards on the barn where they weren't any good when we redid the inside of the old corn crib into a granary. The roof extension and a new chute is on the list. Plus, it'll furnish more cover back here for the stock and make a place to use as a quarantine or holdin' pen."

Somehow, Eliot found himself easily picturing the old man who had reigned here nearly twenty-five years ago after listing to his granddaughter's easy and practical reasoning. The obituary Hardison had found had been front page news in the area papers. He'd been well-known and highly regarded and his death had been sudden. He'd gone out hunting the week after the large family gathering to celebrate his sixty-seventh birthday and had died in his sleep in the early morning after he'd returned. He'd been known as an excellent farmer and judge of livestock. His hunting dogs had been the best in the area and he was an skilled marksman. Though he'd worked on the farm all his life, he'd also worked in many fields outside his farm. He'd sold cars, drove trucks, even been a bouncer at the roller rink in the next county. Most of the recent major upgrades or buildings probably dated to his lifetime from what Eliot saw. He also knew the man's youngest granddaughter hadn't been born for another five and a half years after he'd passed. The things Egan Carlisle had wanted for this place, the place where his forefathers had been born, lived, and died, the place his children and grandchildren had been born and raised, the place where his great-grandchild would be born and raised, hadn't been realized completely in his lifetime. The vision of them, though, had outlived him by almost a quarter of a century.

That made a impression on a thoughtful man like Eliot Spencer and it said a lot about where the young woman standing in front of him came from. Eliot was sure Billy would hear lots of things in the coming months about the what she didn't have to offer her child, but there are some things, worth more than any amount of material possessions, that are beyond personal power to create. The legacy of centuries of history, tradition, and hard work, the certainty of knowing who the people who came before you were and what mattered to them, and the security of a close-knit, extended family who took pride in the family name and took care of one another weren't just things that could be bought, boxed up, and given. It was respect and a reputation that had nothing to do with money or power. It was such a rare thing most folks couldn't understand what that meant, let alone what it could offer.

He'd seen it before and, as a young man, it had confused him. The woman next to him knew no different. She had been born to it. It wasn't something they talked about directly, but she wasn't blind or stupid. It meant funerals had lines waiting outside to pay respects and that the local police and fire companies block traffic for the motor procession. It let a woman in her early thirties drive off the car lot on a snowy Saturday in November with a new four-wheel drive, because when the bank president had been called at home about a loan, he'd had told the owner of the dealership to "Give her whatever she needs. We'll worry about the paperwork Monday." It broke the resolve of a carload of striking workers to carryout a reprisal for crossing picket at the sight of an old man and his shotgun in a lawn chair. A reputation the likes of which politicians and businessmen spent lifetimes in hopes of cultivating would be a child's at birth simply for the name it would carry and the community's faith that the family would continue to beat in the good and out the bad, just as it always had. Eliot's mama had once quoted out of the good book something to the effect that a good name and love should be chosen over treasure. He'd thought it strange at the time, but now he saw the truth in it.

It was clear to him now; Billy's anger was a righteous one. They had attacked the sanctity of centuries of family legacy and endangered the future of it. She'd tried to let the law deal with it, but it'd been corrupted and it had indulged them instead. That left her to see justice done and for those trespasses, she would joyfully rain down the horrors of hell upon them and they weren't bright enough to see it. It was an oversight they could pay dearly for. They only thought about now and the easy way out, but she was content to work quietly and wait, the most dangerous of predators. Eliot had no doubt who would win out in the long run, but he'd like to get things settled now. He had to get them locked away before they gave her a chance and a reason to pull that pistol. Now, he world help lay a block wall that would remain long after he was gone and, later, he would start setting things right. Somewhere along the way, he had become incapable of just walking away.

He wordlessly joined Billy in the truck bed and grabbed a block while she started with the mortar. Parker climbed up on the tool box and watched, occasionally glancing through the now infamous to-do list that had been left on top. The two amateur masons had developed a rhythm and, even reaching up high to lower the blocks down into position, the portion of the post added in this layer took only minutes to complete.

"You need one of the half caps." Billy didn't even look up from trimming up the excess mortar and laying a smooth layer for the caps to sit on.

Eliot paused a moment and then looked to see that, indeed, they were to the point that the wall itself was nearly finished. This layer of capstones would mark its completion, leaving only the posts and pillars to be worked on after this. He quickly found a small stack of capstones that had been sawn in half and snugged one of them up against the post. Billy was waiting with a level and rubber mallet to adjust it.

"Parker, come take the trowel so I can keep goin' while Billy makes sure they're square." He hoped expectant mother wouldn't catch on that he was also eliminating her repeated bending down or having to stretch to reach the far side. She was going to have to convince a career administrator to bend the rules for her later. That was enough stress for one day.

It was unsuccessful, if the look of annoyance and eye-roll were an indication. She didn't object though. Dividing up the task three ways was far too reasonable to argue against. She simply grabbed a spare trowel for removing any stray bits of mortar forced out by the leveling blocks.

The three found a new rhythm with surprising ease, even crowded into the partially loaded bed of a pickup truck. Moving the truck when the time came fell on Parker. Eliot briefly wondered if he'd made a mistake, but it seemed she was capable of driving at a reasonable speed when a small, precise distance was required.

The trio worked their way over halfway down the wall without incident, until Billy, as she finished checking the capstones for squareness, pitched toward. Catching herself on the block, she froze, panting more from surprise than exertion. Eliot quickly pulled her back to sit on the toolbox. Her breathing evened out as she rested her head in her hands.

"Let me see that." Eliot took hold of her left hand and turned the palm to face him when he spotted the blood welling to the surface.

The scrape was minor, the flow ebbing almost instantly, but it was best to take no chances in this environment. "Parker, get me the first aid kit," he commanded in the window to where the other woman set in the driver's seat.

He'd cleaned and wrapped it before Billy made eye contact. "Moved quicker than I shoulda." She forced a little chuckle at the end, but he knew it had scared her. No doubt she'd done worse in the past. Most farm kids while being mature and level-headed were also in the middle less than benign situations. Livestock and machinery could be unforgiving. From what Parker had said when he'd brought up haymaking weather, Billy was well aware of the lasting dangers lurking. Every uneven step, each time she had to make allowances when buying shoes or choosing a seat reminded her of that, but, she'd lived with it so long, the urgency was gone. It had been her forearm bumping against her stomach as she'd raced to brace herself that reminded her just how dangerous a fall or hard impact could be right now. It hadn't been herself she'd been worried for and he suspected that she'd be more than a little relieved at her next doctor's visit.

"You sit here and drink that." He handed her the seemingly omnipresent bottle of apple juice he'd yet to see her without. She shot him an annoyed look between sunglasses and hat brim, but took it.

"Can I move it?" Parker asked quietly from the cab.

"Go ahead." Eliot answered.

When Parker had moved them the short distance and climbed back in the back, she paused next to the younger woman. "You okay?"

"We're fine. Between the change in my center of gravity and movin' too quick, it got to me. Just not used to things yet. More of me to keep track of every day. Well, not entirely me." She released a nervous laugh as she tried to calm herself.

Eliot was glad he had his back to them. Between Parker's seemingly natural show of concern and Billy's unconscious use of the plural, he smiled just a little. He wasn't a fool. If it had only been her, she would have wiped her hand off on her work pants as if nothing had happened.

As Parker started back to work and he reached for a block, he caught a glimpse of Billy holding the bottle with one hand and surreptitiously running her thumb back and forth under the hem of her shirt. The gesture was more for her benefit than the baby's at this early juncture, but the intent was already there. He could almost hear the silent string of apologies directed at the baby and the angry berating directed at herself. Whatever the future held, unplanned certainly didn't mean unwanted.

Eliot and Parker kept up the pace, with Parker checking the sit of the finishing blocks after her troweling duties and Billy growing restless from her enforced break with every block. They were interrupted briefly as the two fugitives ducked out of sight when the mail carrier came and stopped a moment to chat and hand deliver the mail, commenting on the progress of the wall and gate and spreading a little gossip.

When the two returned, as the station-wagon with its rural route lights and placards disappeared around the bend, Billy was waiting, bottle turned upside down in a wordless demand. The fear had tempered her drive to get the job done, but it hadn't dampened it. She was going to see it through, no matter how long it took. She would simply have to make allowances.

"Fine." Eliot gave in and Billy fell into line. She grabbed the level, square, and mallet from where Parker had left them and easily picked up where the thief had been interrupted.

"Good of you to let me work on _my _fence." The stubborn pride wasn't taking the shift in dynamics well, but awakening maternal instincts were more than willing to beat some sense into it. The words and bravado couldn't hide the way she settled into a sitting position on the edge of the bed instead of leaning over. She was lowering her center of gravity nearer to the ground and making sure that if she lost her balance again, she'd catch the top of the wall with her side and not risk going over it, likely headfirst. The moment the tender palm rested on the edge of the truck in an effort to balance her as she reached for the far side, she immediately changed her mind and instead dismounted and disappeared out the new gate to the other side. It wasn't a risk she was taking. The fact that she stayed on the ground, alternating sides, and sitting on the tailgate from time with the refilled juice bottle spoke volumes. The ego could handle the chafing far better than the heart could the fear.

"What are we doing when we finish this?" Parker asked, spreading a layer of mortar on the top of the end post and leaning over the top to look at the woman on the other side.

"When we finish this row or the wall itself? When we finish the row, we go back and add the fill to the posts and wait for things to set up a bit. I might see about finishin' the door for the chicken house. It's all cut and laid out on the threshin' floor. That heavy duty nail gun makes quick work of it really. I could probably get that finished up and ready to mount today yet.

"If you're meanin' the wall as a whole, well Ma and I ain't exactly decided. That section on the other side of the gate would need some diggin' and footers poured and the varmits don't stand there much. Big'en was probably up this way to see who it was drivin' up. The other option bein' to start on the new stock chute. That'll take some thinkin' and I'll probably finish the chicken house while I'm workin' it out. Get Jeffery and company moved to somewhere a little more functional, where the feeder and waterer will last them and I won't have to fight him off so often. He likes to jump at you and I have to whack him at least once every time I go in with him." The last she added when she'd gotten the pair of questioning looks. "The fact he was picked out of a fryer assortment to be a flock rooster instead of supper is lost on him. Maybe if he gets a place big enough for all his hens, he'll be too busy with them to be a jackass. I'm not talking about you!"

Eliot chuckled out loud at the bray from the lane. The miniature donkey had been keeping his herd of tiny mares with their short legs close to the barn all morning, ready to bring them into shelter whenever the forecasted storm hit.

The man decided to change the subject before Parker started asking more questions. "What'd the mailman mean by 'the Battle of Sixth Street'?"

Checking the last block of the course and finding it even, Billy laid her tools on the tailgate stretched a minute. "A disagreement between the town elders and everyone else half a century in the makin'. There's all of twenty-two streets in this place and they refuse to make it twenty three. You want to hear the whole stupid thing?" She headed to the far end to see if it had set up enough to fill with a curious Eliot trailing behind her.

"The highway is Main Street through town and this road forms the North-South axis as Carlisle Street. As you go east, the streets are 'A' through 'E'. The western ones are 'First' through 'Fifth'. The northern five are the first five presidents and the southern ones are the first five states to ratify the Constitution. Very reasonable and patriotic." She waved for Parker to back the truck up.

The blonde leaned out the window to backup and asked, "Then how can there be a battle on Sixth Street if there are only five?"

"When they surveyed it out, there were a bunch of lots sold that didn't really get developed. Some were donated to a church or for the old school that's the community center now. Some they sold to a neighborin' farmer. Some set empty. Old Dale Evert inherited the whole stretch from New Jersey to Connecticut, west of Fifth, two whole blocks.

"He was an old bachelor and wasn't doing anything with it. So, when his two nephews got married within weeks of one another back in the sixties, he gave each one a block. They're cousins and do everything together. They each built a house at the corner of Georgia Street, facing each other across a common lane, and used the rest to start a business. One started the meat locker and the other one has a lumber yard and sells some hardware and tools. Their boys do the runnin' of it mostly anymore, but they still have a hand on things. They had that gravel drive in between the houses extended back past the stores and then it makes a T, where Sixth Street would be, that goes back to fenced parts, the stockyard and the mill yard. For years, they've been tryin' for years to get the town to annex them. The elders just won't do it. Rumor has it, they don't want to ruin the square shape. Don't make sense to me. They are refusing tax money and ain't many small towns growing anymore.

"The town has unofficially annexed it. We all call it Sixth. The guy that clears the snow for the town does it too. The town marshal keeps an eye on it even though he hasn't really got jurisdiction. Several years ago, when they either added or updated the sidewalks, the contractor included that area in the plan. Gave the old fogies a real conniption. Good enough for 'em.

"Today it seems, when the guy from over at the edge of the county was done patchin' holes and whatnot for the council, he took what was left of the load that they'd bought and paved the strip from Fifth down past the turn-ins for the parkin' lots, all of half a block. They nearly had an aneurism back when they were first pavin' out that way and the contractor made an apron out onto it.

"The real debate started with the council after Pa died or there wouldn't have been one. Ma and Gran both agree he'd be for it and the council always went the way he did."

"He was on the council?" Eliot lifted one of the gravel filled buckets from the back of the truck and started pouring as Billy tamped it down. He'd noticed the odd habit of referring to her grandfather as Pa, probably because he hadn't been alive for her to call him Grandpa, she'd picked up calling him him Pa from her mother.

"Yeah. Fifteen years, from the time his daddy died 'til he did. Then his spot went Mama's brother Alan. Officially, to be on the council, you have to be fifty-five or have the agreement of the existing members, at least five of the other eight. All nine are drawn from the locals, kinda. The unwritten tradition has eight members from the community and the head of our family as the ninth, no matter how old he is, or a proxy if needed. Pa's daddy was on the council for sixty-four years. William died when Malcolm was nine. Like I said, father to oldest son. It goes back from Alan to Egan, to Malcolm, William, James, Robert, Barnabas, and the James who emigrated, whose father was also James. The first council meeting was at our table with James as the tiebreaker. It met here a while til they got the meeting-slash-school house built. The circuit preacher at the time tore through the paper signing the charter in places. In the right light, 'Josiah Woodson' is plain as day. I learned pretty quick not to color over it or I'd have his signature in it.

"But now Alan's in West Virginia and, instead of lettin' Ma or Aunt Joan be his proxy, they insisted on Gran and, if you make her mad, she clams up and pouts and they get their way and they know it. Course Uncle Al's that way too." Billy smoothed the last of the gravel in place and told Parker to move them up. "Both of the boys take after their Ma."

Eliot dumped the rest of the bucket in the next pillar and reached for another one. "And it wouldn't be that way if it was your ma or aunt instead?"

Billy raked the gravel out even between buckets. "Hell, no. They'd sooner put a rabid squirrel down their pants than run in on either of them. The results would be about the same, they feel less like men either way. Ma or Joanie take after their dad. There was a new foreman that argued with Ma over the safety protocol. Told her she needed some sense knocked into her and reared back like her was gonna slap her. Decked him so hard he went over the safety railing and into a coal cart. He transferred to another mine. Aunt Joanie once bullied a state senator into gettin' a road fixed. The Carlisle temper is a nasty thing, it gets loose. Most folks crumple from just the screamin'.

"One of us though, we barely notice things that would panic most other folks. I've stepped over cousins, grown men in the service, wrestlin' on the floor, settlin' an argument with knives, to refill my plate. We beat the hell out of one another, but there's a limit on how far we go. It's just about ten miles past what that it is for normal folks. We don't kill or permanently maim. The rest is fair game. Last time I got into with my Cousin Karl, he chipped two teeth and I broke one of his ribs. Most of us are around those kinds of explosions all our lives and more than a few grow into the temper ourselves when we hit our teens and it mellows from a hot rage to a cold one as we age. Gran makes the joke that Ma's turnin' into her daddy and that I'm turnin' into Mama. The council knows that they'd have as much luck bullyin' one of Alan's sisters as they did his daddy and so they insisted on Gran as a proxy. A few more years and it'll be a real shock. They ain't thought of that or they'd be nicer to Ma and Aunt Joan." They finished filling the pillar and moved to the next one.

"Why's that?" Eliot always made sure he knew the politics of the area he was in, safer that way. He'd learned the hard way to always know all the players and their games.

"He's sixty-five. He's startin' to think about steppin' down and passin' on the post. Not sure who will end up with it, but I've got suspicions." Billy leveled up the fill.

"Won't he just give it to his son? And what did your cousin do?" Parker was listening from the cab, cross-legged and backwards on the seat.

"Don't even remember now." Billy seemed thoughtful, but ignored the first of the thief's questions.

Eliot figured it out in the lull of Billy's silence. "He hasn't got a son."

"Nope," Billy started packing the gravel in place. "He's got two daughters and a granddaughter my age. The post has to go to a male with the family name."

"Then who gets it?" Parker furrowed her brow.

"If it can't go down the line, then it goes sideways I think. That would mean Eli, the younger brother, but only if he wants it. He can forfeit. If Pa hadn't died so sudden, Alan might have passed on it and let Eli have a chance, not that he'd be be keen on it either. I'm not sure Eli's two boys would be any more interested in it than him though. Jared and Jacob are a lot like their dad." Billy reasoned.

"How does it work then if no one wants it?" Parker asked quietly. "Does it go back to his uncles then?"

Eliot was motionless a moment as realization set in. "Scottish succession rules right, not English? Like choosin' a clan chief. It would go to a sister's son, startin' with the older sister, but only if he has the family name."

"But if your aunt's married, then her boys would have their father's name and your mom doesn't have a son." Parker looked back and forth between the two. The thief had missed something and knew it.

Billy kept silent, focusing on the pillar, but Eliot answered. "Parker, by the time it matters, she might have a _grand_son though, one with the family name, because it's the only one his mother has to give him."

Parker's eyes went wide and they fixed on Billy's back. Eliot watched the young woman as well.

"That she might." Billy whispered, never looking at them.

"Is that why you want a boy?" Parker's voice held an edge and Eliot grew suspicious.

"No." The young woman shook her head emphatically. "I've always wanted a boy, ever since I even thought about a kid someday. I can't really see myself with a little girl. Never could. A tomboy raised an even bigger tomboy. If she'd have any interest in anything girly, I'm screwed. I was trucks and tools and action figures. I played in the dirt with my dog and caught bugs and worms and lizards. That big maple there in the yard is where my treehouse is. I read Little House on the Prairie, but my favorite is Farmer Boy. I've got close to a thousand dollars in farm toys in totes out in that shed behind the house.

"I didn't even think about succession until I heard Ma and Gran talkin' around Easter. An heir to the leadership of the family would be okay, but that a ways off. I just want someone to play in the dirt with or take to the airshow and Civil War reenactments. A boy's got a better chance of that, though a girl's fine. Ma got me...'course she also got Josey Jay... Mostly I'm just worried about it gettin' here okay. I may work to cover my bases, but I worry about now first. Besides, my family's nuts."

She gave the rock one last tap and gestured at Parker to pull up to the next one. "I love 'em, but I get why lots of the inlaws are drunks, at least at get togethers. I find a remote spot and bring a book to family gatherin's or slip off when they're here. I need a break and I'm one of them. I quit wantin' birthday parties by the time I was ten to get out of bein' the victim, uh guest of honor. Oh Lord, I so hope they don't throw a baby shower. I couldn't get out of it and liquor isn't an option. I'm dreadin' Sunday as it is. One hundred of our closest friends and kin makin' bad rock and dinosaur jokes and yellin' to cut the cake. Like some of them really need cake. A little wardrobe strategy and the fact I hate bein' touched should buy me some more time with keepin' Junior quiet. Next big gatherin' won't be before Labor Day and it'll be out by then. Then there'll be fussin' and touchin'..." She trailed off, looking disgruntled as she distributed the rock Eliot poured in.

"Are you tryin' to think of a way to get out of it already?" Eliot couldn't quite keep the amusement out of his voice as he glanced sideways and hoisted a new bucket.

Starting the packing process again, Billy replied with a smile herself. "I'm goin' to have a newborn at my family's Christmas get-togethers. If a baby manages to sleep at those, they could sleep through a bomb blast. There's eleven kids younger than me, from three fifteen year olds down to Gran's first great-great-grandbaby who was just born in April. As Ma says, 'Chaos and Christmas start and end the same way.' He'll go first." The last was a murmur more to herself than anything as they moved to the next post.

"First?" Eliot emptied the bucket he had and reached for another. This was certainly going to keep him in shape. All he needed was a running route and he'd be doing as much or more than he normally did. He lowered the empty bucket and pulled a full one closer.

"Yeah, um, the rule is youngest unwraps first. Means the little ones don't have to wait so long. I'm due the seventh of December. He'll be the youngest...but I'll be doin' the unwrappin' or get one of the kids to do it. There's three Kindergartners and two pre-schoolers that will be happy to help I'm sure. The drawin' for names will sure be odd. I aged out this year, but I'll draw one for the baby and one paper in the pot won't have a name on it, just basic sizes. We draw at Halloween, before he'll get here, before he has a name." He dumped and she packed and evened. They were getting a little faster with each post.

"He won't have a name until he gets here?" Parker seemed a little scandalized as she pulled the truck forward. They only had these next two pillars and the two posts that were nearly finished left. Once the capstones were fitted to the posts, only the five pillars would remain unfinished.

"I've got one picked, well, two. One for either option, but, call me superstitious, the first person I plan on tellin' what it is is the baby when they gets here. Everyone else can wait. Kinda fair that way. If it's gonna his for the rest of his life, he ought to be the first one to know." Billy cocked her head, quietly contemplating the future for a brief moment then reaching for the mallet she used to pack the fill.

Eliot turned to pull the remaining buckets of gravel and sand closer and found that he could see the same scene that had probably formed in the young woman's mind with surprising ease. Her, tired, sore, but still cradling an unhappy and unsure newborn close to her, finding that even skin to skin was too far away. Needing to be as close as possible, but trying to be as gentle as she could be with the fragile, new person nestled in her arms. Adjusting the towel around the damp little body and wrapping herself around him, keeping him warm as she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. She would try to offer words of comfort to someone who would know them only as the very familiar sound of her voice and that, along with her protective embrace, would be enough. She'd probably tear up, though never admit it, the first time she greeted her baby by name, the first time it was spoken aloud. Never hesitating as she clasped a tiny hand or stroked a red, puffy cheek to offer comfort during the initial poking and prodding, scared at what was to come, but madly in love and willing to do whatever he needed her to.

Young yes, but she had it in her to give some very lucky baby a very good life. She was the sort of person you wanted in your corner, stalwart as an ally and dangerous as an adversary. Kind and gentle, indulgent even, but firm when it counted. Willing to compromise and see reason, but never be cowed by someone who insisted they knew better. She would be as quick to console misfortune or award achievement as she would be to punish bad behavior. An afternoon spent rebuilding a motor was likely to be followed an evening curled up with a book or maybe writing and illustrating their own story. The desire was there. That was the important part. Nothing could make up for a parent just not wanting a child. No one knew that better than he did.

They finished in silence and a quick check was enough to know the mortar needed to set up a bit more before they added another course or capped the ends. Billy settled on the tailgate and drank some apple juice. "Well you guys can do what you want. I'll be inside finishing up the door." She slipped off the tailgate and started making her way through the labyrinth of gates and passages from this corner of the barn to the open space of the threshing bay at the front. The dog, two thieves, and an assortment of cats and kittens quickly set off behind her. The footsteps and the noise-dampening wood muffled it to the point that Eliot couldn't be sure, but he heard something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh, gee, and here I thought only celebrities had entourages".

He knew better than to be offended when she patently ignored them as she settled herself on the floor and started double checking that nothing had shifted despite the boards and blocks arranged to keep it square. It must have been to her liking, because she took the nail gun out of the case, connected it to the air supply and loaded it, shooing away two striped kittens that pounced on a dropped fitting as she did so.

"Kill!" She tossed a nearby jingle ball and they took off after it. "I'll feed you in a bit. Not that missin' a meal would hurt any of you little butterballs." Eliot had yet to see anything that anyone could even suggest was being neglected, spoiled, most definitely.

Parker climbed up on a barrel and Eliot perched on a long beam that supported the end of what he recognized as a hay elevator, used to carry square bales from the ground level to the mow, and both watched the young woman finish nailing the cross pieces to the door, one six inches from either end and one across the middle. She had to reload twice before she finished and started measuring for the angle braces. She never used a ruler or tape, just a carpenter's square and a pencil as she laid the board against the nearly finished door and marked. It was an old way of doing it, a skill passed on from one craftsman to another. Eliot had seen it done enough times that he thought he knew how it was done, even if he hadn't been taught. It made the job easy and it certainly looked impressive from the outside, precise cuts without actually measuring. With the lines drawn, an electric saw made quick of the three cuts and the nail gun had them in place almost as quickly again.

Eliot used the time to think about what he knew and what Nate had told them. He wasn't really concerned about Sterling. Hardison had him thinking they were continents away and, besides the hacking, they hadn't done anything that could genuinely be tied to any of them since the helicopter landed. They could lay low long enough for the heat to die down and Sterling was too busy playing his little game with Nate to really focus on them. He needed to figure out what to do with Haywood and the guy running the drugs and stolen cars for him, Vaughn.

Corrupt officials were a million times harder to bring down than regular bad guys. That's why he hated dealing with politicians. You couldn't use the same channels to bring one down. They were the law and it was hard to bypass them without tipping them off. Haywood owned the county. They didn't have many resources in it they could use. On the floor, Billy stretched her arms over her head and reached to switch the battery pack from the saw to the drill and started placing the hardware. _Over his head!_ Haywood owned the county, but if they got something bigger involved, he couldn't do anything, but get caught. The meth and stolen car rings both operated outside the county for part of their cycles. If they could bring enough heat out there where Haywood couldn't protect Vaughn, Vaughn might sell out Haywood to save himself.

Eliot nodded to the two women and excused himself. Slipping back out the way he came, he switched on his earbud.

"Hardison, can you see if the stolen cars and drugs are showing up on anyone's radar, neighborin' counties, Lexington Metro, State Police, DEA. FBI..." Seeing the bumper sticker on the old truck for the nearby national forest, "Fish and Wildlife. I don't care who as long as they have some sort of jurisdiction and he can't control them. He's a predator. We just need something higher up the food chain."

"I get you. Let me see what I can get." The clack of keys echoed over the comms.

Eliot hated waiting. At least here there was something to do. He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and took stock of what was still in the truck. Several dozen block, seven large capstones, a few leftover small ones, half a dozen buckets of fill, and a bag and a half of mortar mix were still crammed in the bed. He grabbed a couple of the leftover caps and carried them to the skid he'd noticed yesterday tucked between the inner wall of the corn crib and the tractor. He returned them the pile they'd come from and kept at it until all the spares were put back into storage. He couldn't help, but shake his head. The small space reminded him of a very small version of the yard of a respectably stocked home improvement store.

Overhead racks held lumber in various forms along with whole and partial sheets of chipboard, plywood, and insulation board. Skids held pavers, blocks, drainage tile, fencing supplies, various odds and ends, and more bags of mixes. A massive coil of drain pipe was in one corner. He'd bet his last dollar that if he looked in the tubs in the other corner he'd find boxes of fasteners inside and it would be sure money. There was enough leftovers for any small job or repair that came up and, by the looks of it, some things were being laid up for some project or other. One stack of boards looked like the ones the door was being made from and would probably furnish the rest of the doors. Several sections of tree trunk with the bark attached were laying to one side and he was unsure if they simply hadn't been milled yet or if try would be used as fence posts. Forethought and, he suspected, a watchful eye on sales supplied the stock of materials to keep a constant stream of projects going. They simply waited for the time and labor. It wasn't a bad way of doing things.

"You're right. Our boys have gotten some attention. Metro PD has been getting help from the DEA on tracking the supply. They know it isn't being cooked up in the city. They're pulling way more off the streets than they are finding labs. They just don't know where it's coming from." Hardison was being very quiet. Sophie must be nearby. "They don't have much of a lead on the parts trade though. I'm gonna keep looking at this and funnel what we have to Nate. Over and out."

His hunch had been right. If they could bring down the organized crime aspect and get enough to implicate Haywood, everyone he was protecting would be open to prosecution. Only in this day and age would you have to bring down a crime boss and a corrupt prosecutor to get three little punks locked up. He had started this and he would see it through.

He made his way back inside to see what the two women were up to and found that they were definitely up to something, because neither one was there nor was the door. "Damn." The hitter swore and, rather than try to find his way out through the inside, went back outside and headed for the unfinished chicken house. Well, it had been unfinished when he'd passed it that morning, but by the time he got there, Parker was finished installing the last screw in the catch for the door latch.

Billy casually tipped her hat to him from where she leaned against the door to hold it shut. "Don't get too out of shape. I only carried one end." She rolled her eyes good naturedly. "I just need a gate on the run and this hen house is open for business. Shall we see if we can add another course or did you do that while you were out there? I'm gonna check the openin' for the gate real quick first." She picked up a two by four he missed earlier and held it upright in the doorway, marking the top post and then inverting it. "We framed it as six by three. This is a twelve footer, so if everything is square..." The same line marked the top again. "Bingo. One cut and I have my uprights." She turned it sideways and made a mark on the width of the opening to refer to later and double, triple, checked that the width was the same top to bottom. "Good to go." She took off with the lumber over her shoulder before anyone could stop her and cut through the barn to drop it off and Parker left the drill with it.

It was predictable, but with everything else going on, Eliot liked predictable. With it nearing completion, adding four blocks to each pillar and capping the two finished posts was barely enough to get the hitter's blood moving. It was just enough to keep him from feeling restless as he worked out a rough plan in his head.

With a pat to the now finished post, Billy leaned against the gate and surveyed what remained of the project. "Well, we finish what we can and what doesn't get done today, we'll just cover and get back to Monday if the weather clears. Everything but the pillars will be at least cured by the time any rain starts. A bag pulled down over those with a few bricks tied to the ends for weight should be more than enough to hold them there." She gave the two an appreciative nod.

"How much higher do those have to be?" Parker was sitting on the toolbox again.

"Good question. I hadn't stopped to figure it. With help, it's going up a lot faster than I expected. I thought I'd wouldn't cap the wall itself 'til sometime next week. The rear wall is fourteen foot. The new wall is about twelve foot away. That roof is at a thirty degree slope, so it loses eight or so inches for every foot it covers. That meanin' it'll lose eight feet, so those need to be about six high. Five and a half would be plenty, 'cause it'll need a crossbeam and mountin' brackets." She did a quick count of the finished rows and laughed. "Two more then. Good thing you asked! Might not need to cover it after all." She walked to the closest of the pillars and pressed the mortar with a finger. The humidity was making it just noticeably longer to dry. She went along checking the rest. "First three are up to it and, hopefully, the other two are up for it by the time we get to them. With rain comin' and the moisture in the air, they need all the edge they can get dryin'."

Parker took that as her cue and brought the truck back and Eliot tipped a partial bucket into the center of the column and moved onto the blocks themselves by the time Billy had made her way up. He wanted desperately to offer his hand, but that might just be enough to set her off. She'd hung her vest on the side of the truck with the rising temperature and humidity and, without it, Baby Carlisle made a noticeable curve, solid muscles conceding space for the tiny occupant as needed. Billy was quick and graceful mounting the truck and went to work with no comment. Being that near the finish line was a powerful motivator.

The final column was still a little soft, but, as Billy cocked her head in contemplation, she commented, "The cup of ready mix I add to every bucket of fill will suck up whatever water it can get. That's why I haven't been coverin' it at night. Lettin' the dew in to set it up."

Eliot shook his head. She wasn't just filling the empty spaces. She was adding a little cement mix to harden it into one solid mass. He had lived in forward bases in enemy territory for months that hadn't had that kind of reinforcement. If a car was to miss the curve and hit it at any appreciable speed, the wall might have some surface cracks, but the car and its passengers would be totaled.

"You gonna try buildin' that gate while we give this a bit to settle?" The man was no fool. She wasn't going to waste any time, but for this she'd be sitting down on the floor and he might could get her engaged in conversation and make it last a little longer.

The young woman nodded and took a long sip from the bottle in her hand. He was thankful she was staying hydrated. It was easy enough to forget and now wasn't a time to get run down. Swallowing she spoke, "If we finish this and I get the run done and the Barred Rocks all moved down there where they belong before I have to go in for lunch and get ready and go, I'll have everything I wanted to get done in June finished three days before the month even starts. I need all the leeway I can get. The poultry would be set. How many ever of the new pens I'd get finished and them moved into would just be gravy. Just two more would have us good for a couple years really. One for all the guinea birds except for that pair that's white and a pen on the ground for the Bronze turkeys would free up a lot of space and space means the feed and water lasts longer.

"The new pens I designed to auto-water year round. The only way I'd ever have to carry water was if the pond went dry and that's never happened, not even when Pa was waterin' over a hundred head of stock and the garden out of it in a drought. The feeders hold a good fifteen pounds. I'll top off with a couple pounds every other day or so, but I'll never have to fill them unless I clean them out. Just the one pen that's a bucket and trip less just for feed every day. Same on the water. I lug fifty, sixty, pounds of feed a day for just the birds most days. Less feed and more water in the summer. July last year, I was havin' to fill all the waters under three gallon twice a day, the rest once. The troughs I was fillin' every other. I was tryin' to work it down before the baby and, now I need to. Ma's pushin' sixty. I've been doin' more of the chores since I was about twelve. I had the time and I can just do it faster and easier.

"I've nearly got the birds sorted. With this wall and the new chicken house, two of the three stretches of bad fence get replaced. The back wall down there divides the poultry yard from the pasture better than any fence. These fence panels get recycled to spot on the back side were the wire's gettin' ratty. It'll need work next year, but that's next year. The big deal is water.

"Spring last year, to water the poultry out of the pond you had to carry it in buckets from the stock tank down there to one on this side of the fence and pour it over, then you bucketed it to the buildin's. Last worked it out that April so it Teed and became two spigots. One filled the stock tank and the other would take a hose to the tank up here. God, that was so nice. Turnin' a knob instead of twenty trips with buckets." She sighed dreamily at the memory.

Easing down on the tailgate, she continued. "Then we decided we needed the room and to replace fence and we figured out how to do both at once. I came up with the reservoir system for the rain off of it and Ma was really excited when I showed her how it would work and so we built it to water itself mostly. I did, however, extend this end of the T with a pipe and connect it with an automatic shutoff valve. So long as there's water in the holdin' tanks, it's closed. They get low and it opens to build the pressure back to a point and then shuts off again. The new attachment for the hose is the end of the building and it reaches three of the five buildin's and several of the cages. No buckets needed there. With the longer reach of the hose and some stuff moved into the new buildin', that won't be a bad job at all." Leaning back against the side of the truck, she looked at the other two.

"For the stock, we've got one main waterin' point, the pond and the creek where they can help themselves, and several dozen tanks that catch runoff from roofs when it rains or gets it hauled in from time to time. The problem with the pond or creek is that sheep won't drink movin' water, they just won't, some fear about bein' sucked in with all that wool I reckon. The one end of the pond that is accessible from the bank is so boggy anything bigger than Boots avoid it because they sink. Other than that one tank by the faucet, the places they usually drink from need it to either rain or have it hauled in and they drink that tank down there dry easy, neither the sheep or horses can all gather round it at once. It's only two hundred gallon. It's the biggest tank that will fit there. Anything taller and the faucet won't reach and neither can the sheep. Anything longer would have to sit back further and the faucet won't reach again. On hot days you either have to turn it on and sit and wait while everybody has their fill or fill it most ways and leave it on a little and check so it don't run over an make a muddy mess. There's just one solution and it requires time, work, and money." She sighed and took another drink.

"I'll have to take the tractor and dig out a revetment on either side so a longer tank will fit and dig down so I can dump some gravel to level it up and keep it dry. Then, when the four hundred long goes on sale, and it usually does once durin' the summer, I can get one and some pipe fittin's and an automatic tank valve and then the thing will be big enough to handle all the sheep or horses showin' up at once and will just fill itself. The old tank can move up behind the barn and then there'll be two to catch water off the roof. That way, they'll always have water they can get to somewhere. Beyond that, and the regular, makin' hay and raisin' of their some grain, anything else would just be buffer. We've lived up here two hundred years with a little buffer and it's been a good life. We've always had what we needed and some of what we wanted. Things get too easy and you get greedy and forgetful. Now let's see if I can get Jeffery moved while the sun's shinin'. Took a break, just like you was wantin'." She tipped her hat and left them sitting there.

"You figured out what we're going to do?" Parker caught him before he could try to catch up with the young, pregnant woman bounding off to use power tools.

"I've got some idea. I though I'd see if Nate had anything else to add and listen to what Sophie has in mind when we tell her what's goin' on. So far, I've got three parts. One, we figure all the details of the operation, places, names, schedules. I want as many of these guys picked up as possible when we spring the trap. I don't want a lot of loose ends to worry about. Two, we figure out a way to feed that to whoever will act on it the best. Three, we do all that without gettin' caught or sendin' up any red flags that might bring Sterling out here. I don't have much on the specifics. I do know that Lexington PD has brought in the DEA to help sniff out where all the meth is comin' from. If we can get everything gathered up for them and tip them off, that will be one part of the operation we won't have to worry about bringin' down ourselves. We still have the stolen cars and tying Haywood to all this tight enough he can't get out." He could hear the saw going inside.

"What if they stole a car that everyone would be looking for?" Parker offered.

"They'd still have to find it, Parker, or even be lookin' in the right spot. I think we all need to sit down, look at what we have, and throw out ideas. Hardison is comin' up with a list of places that could hide meth labs where people wouldn't notice. You know, storage units, isolated rental properties, that kind of thing. I figured we could go scout some of the more likely ones this afternoon, while Hardison tracin' the money and Sophie's bringin' herself up to speed." A long string of pops from the nailgun was followed up by the saw again and a few more pops.

"Cool." The thief lit up and ducked inside the barn, no doubt wondering how many locks she'd get to pick and if she'd get to better her old record. Eliot didn't know what that number was, but he knew the thief had it ferreted away in the corners of the wild and weird place called her mind.

The sound of the nail gun greeted them. Billy didn't both to look up from the spot she was in, kneeling on the wooden frame and fitting thin strips of wood to it to hold the wire mesh in place and more over the lower half, making bars, to add an extra layer of varmit deterrent. They finally got a look in their direction when she finished and was reaching for the hardware needed to hang the gate. "I'd ask how the pow-wow went, but I suspect I'm not supposed to know." She turned her focus back to mounting hinges and the latch, while Parker cast a befuddled look at Eliot and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "She has Nate magic." The man quietly mused to himself that some day a teenager would be very frustrated trying to keep secrets from their mother.

Moments later, the young woman stuffed screws and a few odd bits in her pocket and stood, lifting the gate from the floor as she did. "Give me that." Eliot stormed over and took it from her.

She rolled her eyes and handed Parker the drill in reply. "Meet you down there." With that, she ducked out the front door.

The hitter shrugged and went the other way with the thief. By the time they had found their way out, Billy rejoined them with a box under one arm and a pipe wrench in her hand. It was Eliot's turn to be chagrined, but he lifted the gate into place without a word for her to hang. The drill quickly had the hinges in place and the latch was likewise attached with little effort. A few test swings and the foreman of the project nodded to herself, grabbed the box and wrench and headed for the actual chicken house.

From the doorway, they could watch her remove the dog bowl from the box and connect it to the pipe. When it was tight, she sat it on a raised block, cast her eyes heavenward, and open the valve. "The die is cast." Never before had three people ever watched as intently as they did as the bowl filled with water, waiting with bated breath for the force of gravity on the water's surface to create enough pressure to close the valve built into the dish. A faint click and a stopped flow was their reward. Billy looked up, smiled, and ticked off four fingers. "Straw, feed, grit, and chickens."

Closer and closer to the end until you could almost taste it. The man wordlessly prayed that their plan would go as smooth. He nodded in agreement. "Row of block. Get this ready. Row of block. Move the hens. Cap the pillars." He offered. It felt good to put in honest work for a change. He led the way back up. Parker bounded ahead to back up the truck, while Billy cut through the barn to drop off the tools.

As intent as he was on the blocks, he missed the amused look of their host as she set a box and the drill at the corner of the barn. She didn't join them in the truck, just taking her tools and waiting for them to move to the next post before attending to the fine tuning of the first post. She'd accepted her place and let them tend to theirs.

Parker moved up to the next post and Eliot mixed more mortar, leaving Billy with nothing more to do than make a few adjustments to the blocks and wait and, more importantly, drink. The hitter was drinking from his own bottle of water more than he really needed to as a silent prompt. It got him a few annoyed looks, but it also got the desired results. Part of him suspected she'd be a fastidious without them, but he liked being sure. She'd said it herself. She was pushing for a buffer, but would hopefully be able to relax soon. Oh, he knew she wouldn't stop working, but she'd be able to pace herself. Maybe after the yet unseen stretch of ratty fence was neatened up some, she take a week or so to just build doors, gates, and whatever odds and ends she needed. Not enough to really be taxing or dangerous, just enough to make her feel useful.

Eliot may not have been a mason by trade, but a block a minute pace on twenty blocks meant the row was finished and Parker was preparing to back up to the end again in no time. "Wait," Eliot did a quick count of the blocks in the truck, "can you back over to that gate. I need a few more blocks to finish." Parker shrugged and changed direction, earning a reproachful look from the Collie at the change in routine as he stood to move out of the way and picked up a stubborn kitten to take with him. Eliot was placing a fourth block on the tailgate when the sound of a drill caused his head to whip in its direction.

"Oh, would you relax? I figured while you did that, I'd put up a solar light on the end post." She waved the shiny metal bracket in his direction. "I could always go carry a fifty pound bale of straw down to the chicken house if you like." The tone she used made it clear she knew exactly how he'd react if she tried that. He watched out of his peripheral vision as he loaded the dozen blocks he needed. Billy, as usual, paid him no mind as she fastened bracket, then lamp base, added two battery packs and the bulb, connected the wires from the solar panel in the top, made sure it faced south, and then fastened it down tight. "See? Was that too much? You'd think I'd worry about them tryin' to shoot it, but since I doubt they can hit anything smaller than a Winnebago while movin' and I could drop them from my bedroom window if they stop, it's safe. We can fill right before we lay the next ones." She scooped up the empty box in one hand and the drill in the other and disappeared into the barn.

Eliot let himself relax on the tailgate as Parker moved them back into starting position. Once the truck was parked, he eased down and started inside at an easy pace until he remembered when Billy said she could be doing and broke into a run. Startled, Parker quickly matched his pace. They arrived in the open area of the main floor and found it empty. A bucket of feed and a large scoop full of what had to be the grit she'd mentioned sat on one barrel, but the woman he'd been carefully watching all morning was absent.

"Ya know, I might saw 'relax' again, but 'catch' is a better choice." He turned to find the source of the voice above him in the loft, leaning against one of the dozens of hewn oak posts, thick as his chest, that held up the roof. Once he was facing her, she placed her foot against a golden bale of straw and pushed it over the edge. The hitter rushed to meet it and both women laughed at the loose strands of it that stuck in his hair. He growled at both of them and stormed off with it down the lot.

Following behind him, Parker leaned into Billy, carrying the bucket and scoop. "You would have really carried that yourself?"

"Oh, hell. no. I'd have brought the truck around and kicked the bale out the mow door into the bed, drove it down, and carried it a part at a time inside." The younger woman whispered back and offered a mischievous smile when Eliot glared at her over his shoulder.

When he arrived, he dropped the bale in the middle of the floor, used the proffered knife to cut the strings, and then kicked it to spread it around. Billy dumped her burdens in the correct containers and grabbed an armful of straw to toss in the nest boxes in the corner. Parker climbed up on the roosts and watched. "It's nice. If I were a chicken, I'd like it here." She commented.

"Thanks, Parker. It should make the old biddies happy." The young women looked around in a quick double-check. "Oh." She reached into her pocket and extracted a light bulb. "Grabbed this when I was in the garage." Reaching up, she screwed the bulb into the socket over the door, flipped the switch on briefly to check, and turned it out again.

Eliot had spotted the solar array on the roof the first time he'd seen the building. Lots of solar panels and several wind turbines scattered around. He wasn't sure if they could generate all the power the farm needed, but it was a lot of it and he didn't doubt things were in place to expand. If the storm took out power lines, they'd scarcely feel it up here.

"It certainly looks the part, absent the actual chickens. I'll deal with that after we lay the last of the block. I need to see it the acetylene torch and small bottle are in the toolbox to trim down the re-bar or if I need to find them." Billy seemed lighter, calmer. _Good, that's what I want._

"Well, let's move. Your gran will yell for you in, what, about an hour and a half?"

"Ummmhmmm, sounds about right." She checked her watch. "I'll need to start getting' ready to go then anyhow. Oh joy. Bureaucrats and Jeffery all in one day."

` They filled the previous course of block and the last row seemed to lay themselves. A little more filler and their caps was all that remained to be added to the pillars. The speed that they had gone up was a little surreal, but with four different people working on them at one time or another, the work had gone quickly. Sooner than they expected they stood outside the door of a chicken house watching the animals inside mill about.

"So what do we do?" Parker eyed the closed screen door, the moving outlines of its occupants just discernible in the dimmer light.

Billy didn't reply. She simply unlatched the door and waited as it swung inward. It hadn't even completed the arc of its movement when a mass of gray and white feathers came leaping from within. In one fluid motion, she sidestepped and snatched the pair of legs that had been kicking at hers with his spurs. Holding the flailing ball of angry rooster at arms length, she looked at the thief with an arched eyebrow. "I never said he'd be hard to catch, especially when he does all the work. You want to be a jerk, so you can make the trip upside down. Other than that one deranged little banty rooster, you're the only one I have to carry like this. The rest just let me pick them up and carry them easy. Even Sam and he's a big, ol' fifty pound turkey. Actually, I can just put a hand against the back of his neck and kinda lead him. Could one of you get that?" She jerked her head towards the open door where the dog had been keeping the rest of the birds from coming out and started down towards the newly completed building.

By the time Park had closed the door and had caught up, Billy was already in the run and was preparing to toss the seething chicken in the building and close the door.

"Your new abode. Enjoy, Jeffery." With that, she pulled the door shut and latched it. A thud on the other side rattled it briefly. "Idiot." She rejoined the others outside the run and closed it behind her. "While he's busy lookin' around inside, I should be able to round up his hens and just put them in the run. He can show them around inside, give him somethin' to do. He had four hens in with him. There's four more like him in there, two over there, and should be three in with what we raised last year. Maybe keepin' them happy will settle him down." She sighed and went back to whence she came. Eliot and Parker simply stood outside the door watching as she rounded up the four checkered hens and Lighthorse waited in the doorway to prevent escapes.

True to her word, five minutes later, she exited the building with all four hens sitting calmly, clutched between her arms and her body, looking around with little concern as if simply wondering where Jeffery had gone. Parker closed the gate and hurried along to open the run.

As soon as their feet hit the ground, they started scurrying around excitedly, pecking and scratching at the grass. "There, girls. Live it up. The grand poo-bah is inside."

The young woman pulled her hat off and wiped her temple with a handkerchief. A fine scratch was barely visible. "Bumped it on something gettin' them. Four down, nine to go. Bored yet?" She stretched and wheeled towards another building, intent on finishing the move. It went the same as before, with one minor hiccup. A yellow chicken bolted out the door, startled, and the Border Collie had to dash and retrieve her.

As Parker opened the door to let Billy set them inside the run. "Now the fireworks start. Ever heard the phrase 'pecking order'? The hens will have to sort it out amongst themselves who's boss of whom." Billy closed the latch and stood to watch what would happen. Predictably a brawl started and the noise was enough for Jeffery to find the chicken door and run outside, convinced something was after his women. He froze when he saw no predator or competitor, only twice the number of ladies for him to charm! The switch from war dance to strutting and preening happened so fast it was comical. "Not so many complaints now, huh? You're welcome. Best to get the rest before these make up and maybe gang up on the younger ones." Billy was to a coop and back with two more before either thief could follow. The new hens managed to blend into the background without a lot of uproar.

"Now for the young 'uns." The young woman headed for a small shed in the corner of the lot and peeked inside. "Hi, guys. How's everybody?" She carefully stepped over the board across the threshold. "These are the babies. Down on the floor are the gang from last year. The little, bitsy guys from this year are in the pens along the back wall." A shrill crow from the corner nearly cut her off. "Oh, pardon me. The good lookin' guy over there is Skip." The tiny, black and white rooster could have sat in a person's open hand. He puffed himself up importantly on a mound of straw in his cage in the corner.

"Why is he by..." Parker started to ask, but Skip chose that moment to walk toward them. Crawl toward them would be a better word. He balanced on his left leg; his right was twisted and trailing behind him. He used his wings as support, stretched and pressed against the thick layer of straw that lined the two by two foot cage.

Billy knelt beside the cage and picked him up. "Hey, buddy. You lookin' to introduce yourself?" She felt through her pockets until she came up with something she offered him in her other hand. "Found a couple meal worms in the feed barrel." She held him towards the two thieves who didn't know what to do other than lightly stroke his neck. He seemed to enjoy it, closing his eyes and laying his head sideways.

"Sometimes, they just don't hatch right. Sometimes, high protein, medicated and vitamin loaded feed and a few hours straightens 'em up. Some need some milk with a little A, D, and E added and a box with a screen-mesh floor for better traction. Once in a while, one needs braces made of Popsicle sticks and medical tape. That was enough to straighten his brother out. Nothin' worked for him. So we just make sure he's comfortable and won't get stepped on. He's two and the old man of the house, but he earns his keep. Sometimes, you hatch a one that's a little slow to get the hang of eatin' and drinkin' or it's sort of high strung and timid, so we have a 'mentorin' program' I guess you could call it. They go in with him and watch him eat and drink, like they would their mother, and they hide underneath his wings and they feel safer. He seems to like the company and they aren't big enough to hurt him.

"It was sort of a spur of the moment thing last year. He was the only one still in here and we hadn't intended to have little guys so early, but the Conservation Officer at the park called my mom up and asked if she'd hatch a clutch of Canadian geese. A tree blew over and got their mama and one of the guys helpin' clear the tree mentioned that Ma had hatched some eggs for folks before and would probably be willin' to hatch these for him. Since she was runnin' the incubator anyways, she set eggs earlier than she would normally and we hadn't really decided what to do with him. We figured that they wouldn't be big enough to hurt him and he wasn't really inclined to do anything to them, so we just put them in with him. We had a couple slow starters we were watchin', but he just kinda took 'em. I mean you get an old broody hen and she'll take little ones if you give her a few extra when hers hatch or even take eggs if you slip them in the nest, but he's Mr. Mom. When they get too active for him, they go in the cage with the rest of the brood and he waits for more."

She scratched him affectionately under the neck. "We've got a big clutch due. I might even find some pips when I roll them at lunchtime. You ready?" He leaned harder into her kneading fingers and stretched a wing. "Well, let's put you back and I'll take the plaid girls out to the rest of their kind and Ma and I will see if we can get everyone moved around so these big guys are in something more long term and the oldest of the babies can just be loose on the floor. I think Snowball can come down from the second clutch. He's certainly as big as the bigger chicks."

She placed him back in his cage, quickly peeked in on the little ones, and gathered up the three hens she'd come for. As soon as they inside where they belonged, she held her arm up in triumph. "Check on this chicken house gettin' finished. Check on the run. And check on gettin' Jeffery and company into long term housin'. Throw in the wall and the two posts gettin' finished and the light goin' up, probably the pillars too, and today's been a very good day. Please, God, let this afternoon go as well." She paused to watch Jeffery and his little troupe of hens picking at the grass and snatching up the insects they found.

"Well, I reckon it's time to add the last of the fill and the capstones and then we'll see what else is on that list of yours. Lay on, McDuff." Eliot held out his hand towards the barn.

"Onwards and upwards." Billy slapped her legs and started back up the hill.

"To infinity and beyond!" Parker took off bouncing and passed Billy. Eliot shook his head and Billy laughed the whole walk back, bu Eliot heard her whisper "A meetin', a fence, a pack of idiots, and the first part of December".

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

The Brit and momentry leader of their little band of merry thieves had spent the morning tidying up their temporary home, listening to a bit of chatter from Hardison's bugs, and amusing herself with the child's copy of Dicken's Parker had been lent. That was what you would have seen on the surface. Underneath the well honed facade, the grifter worried about Nate and their own safety, but couldn't help wondering what the younger three members of their family were up to. She had her suspicions. A word overheard here, a document glimpsed there. She'd built multi-million dollar cons on less. She knew they had done some digging and they had found something. That Eliot had been so willing to bring Nate in after the breech of trust...the little hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood up. They had found something dangerous and something the three felt compelled to at the very least investigate, even as fugitives with Sterling breathing down their necks and Nate hospitalized.

Sophie honestly couldn't decide if she should be anxious that they could get caught or angry that she'd been the last to know. Did they really think she wasn't as invested as they were? She's the one who bloody well brought them here. It was her friend and her plan. She should be the most invested of the three. Eliot had promised to fill her in at lunchtime, so she wouldn't be in the dark for very much longer, though she had gotten noticeably restless as it grew closer to when she expected Eliot and Parker to return from lending a hand and performing a veiled interrogation. Not that it would go unnoticed. The older woman could picture the eye roll and even stare as easily as she could call the easy drawl to mind.

Her agony would end soon, she could hear someone out on the porch.

"We finished it!" Parker bounded in past them and dashed to the bathroom ahead of Eliot to wash her hands.

"What exactly did you finish, Parker, dear?" Sophie closed the book and carefully set it back where Parker had left it.

"The wall and the chicken house and the pen and we put up a light and moved chickens...he's kinda mean...but we met Skippy and he's really nice, so they aren't all mean." The childlike woman hopped up on the back of the couch.

The older couldn't help, but laugh at the younger's enthusiasm. "Did you leave anything to do later?"

"There's lots and lots of stuff on the list, but Billy's going to talk to some lady in the city this afternoon and it's going to rain." She seemed depressed by this. "But, Hardison is supposed to find us things to do. Did you?" She bounded off to look over the young man's shoulder.

Eliot was much longer in the bathroom and can out wearing a clean shirt.

"You two certainly sound like you've had a busy morning." She looked at the hitter as he made his way to the kitchen and she followed, catching a glimpse of schematic for a storage facility on the computer screen as she did so.

"Billy mostly. The girl's relentless, like those Born things on Star Wars. I laid some blocks, helped move and hang a gate, and carried a bale of straw. Parker spread mortar, drove the truck, helped carry a door and put it up, and opened and closed doors. Billy leveled the blocks, trimmed the mortar, built the door and gate, put up the light, fixed feed and water in the new chicken house, and caught and carried the chickens to it. When we left, she was feedin' her kittens, checkin' things off the list, and gettin' ready to have lunch then change and drive into Lexington. That reminds me. She told me that if we needed her to get something while she was there to give her a list within a couple hours. Wider selection and less likely to run into people she knows. I think I'm going to fix a vegetable soup. It'll take some time to cook, but everyone can serve themselves. Reheats good too." He pulled out a chopping board and went to gathering ingredients.

"Are you trying to avoid the topic at hand or simply hoping I forget." She leaned in and placed a hand on his arm.

"I told you I'd tell you and I meant it. I just have to figure out what needs said and how." He gave her that look of honest thought that could seem so out of place on an active man like him.

"Eliot, just start at the beginning. I'll as questions if I need to." Her anger faded at his uncertainty.

"Alright then." He cast a look at the other two to keep from interrupting and starting fixing a pot of broth.

"How about I start with what I know and you fill in the gaps. You had Hardison do some checking the night we arrived and you were very gung-ho the next morning." She started fixing herself some tea, half because she wanted it for the conversation ahead and half so that Eliot wouldn't feel like she was pressing him.

"I didn't like the idea that someone was just showin' up and causin' trouble. I liked the idea of the police bein' out here even less. I had Hardison pull up the case file to find out what we were dealin' with." He rinsed a container of frozen mixed vegetables and set them to drain and thaw.

"I saw what they had. I saw what they took down the night they were called. I saw the pictures. But that wasn't everything. Those boys, they had the nerve to brag about it where she could hear them like they were bulletproof. Either they were awfully dumb or they didn't think they would get in trouble. She's not stupid. She recorded every word and turned it in. They sideswiped the front gate and she took pictures of the side of their truck. I saw what she did, what anyone with eyes would. That scroll-work and interlockin' C's is like a fingerprint. She handmade those gates, every bend and line. The dent in that car was made right here. Nothing else could have left that mark. They did it and said as much. The car puts them here." With the vegetables pre-cut, he had to find something else to distract himself and settled on making noodles for those who wanted them in their soup.

"Maybe the deputy just hasn't gotten to it." Sophie tried to play the devil's advocate.

"Naw," Hardison broke the gag order from Eliot. "He's some cousin to the family. They called him in personally and he closed the case and handed it off to the DA. He's the one setting on it. A slam-dunk case, an open docket, and an election year. He oughta be on that like a fat kid on an ice cream truck."

Eliot glared at the interruption, but went on. "The only reason he isn't acting, is if he's protectin' them or someone else. So we did some more diggin' and then asked Nate if he could make sense of everything." Now he looked at Hardison to jump in.

"We passed what we had on to him. He helped us eliminate some things and find some we missed." Hardison then stepped forward and spread out the papers he'd been printing out this morning on the counter in front of her and pointed in a specific order, calling attention to highlighted areas.

"This is updated since this morning and with Nate's input added in." Hardison nodded to Eliot and he paused to look at them too. Parker even joined in with the gazing.

Sophie read and reread what she had before her. Eliot had gone back to his pans and left her to digest what they offered the grifter and make sense of it.

Parker and Hardison left her alone to do... something on the computer.

Eliot was ladle-ling the finished soup in bowls and laying out sandwich makings before their temporary leader spoke again.

"Brent Haywood, the county prosecutor, has basically set himself up as a crime boss. He's protecting certain parts of the criminal element, useful to himself, in exchange for campaign funds to get elected to higher office to have more power to do the same. He's letting this man!" She shook the rap sheet of Andrew Vaughn, "cook methamphetamine here in this county to sell in the city and then bring stolen cars and goods here to be processed. He's receiving forty percent of the profits to keep himself in power for keeping the police away from Vaughn's operations, letting his employees off, and ruthlessly hunting down his competition, which makes him seem hard on crime. He's been trading protection for favors and bribes for six and a half years and no one has caught on until now and the only reason we found it is that three little ruffians that are acting as runners decided to vandalize the home of a classmate, who just happens to be hiding us. Does that sum it up?" Her voice was a mix of frustrated anger and overwhelmed disbelief.

Eliot gently slid the soup towards her. "Yeah. That's the gist of it. We've been up helpin' Billy to get a little intel and help calm her down a little before she does something drastic. I'm still not sure she won't if the openin' presents itself, but I think we maybe helped ease some worry. With that wall where the fence was, they can't get at the animals. I think that really got to her. That they'd hurt them to hurt her. I think that's part of what she's doin'. She's providin' cover and arrangin' things so they aren't so easy to get to."

Sophie nodded. "That's simply cruel, to anyone, and especially to her. She told me once she was in school before she understood not everyone had pets. They were just such a part of her life. She was given a terrier puppy for her first Christmas and he was a constant companion for years. When he passed and she ready for a new dog, she chose that collie. Whenever she spoke of him, she reminded me of a doting, new parent. Every new skill or trick mastered. Little anecdotes. I didn't know if I should laugh at the way she was with him or cry because what came so easy for her with him is so hard with a person. It's what she knows. She'll admit as much. She had next to no human contact outside of family until she got to school and, once she got there, it wasn't exactly something she enjoyed. One or two at a time is manageable, but a group situation is stressful."

Eliot sighed. "Explains her dreadin' graduation."

"An understatement. Verbal cues are not something she reads well. Non-verbals on the other hand are frighteningly good. Even human communication is ninety percent unspoken. Anything else is much higher. She knows things without being told, at least in words. What that means is that she's compelled to watch people. It's not a habit. It's a true compulsion. She wants to be able to see everyone in the room. You add in that she doesn't handle coming up behind her well and a large group is a form of torture, especially if she can't take breaks from it."

"That was why she always got singled out. She never quite blended in." Eliot jaw tightened and he took a bite of soup to cover it.

"Not that is a particularly wise choice. She's...honest, forthright." Sophie was searching for the words to delicately explain the young woman's bluntness.

"I noticed. She says what she means." Eliot took a bit of his sandwich.

"No, it's more than that. She never lies. She may throw in unconnected true statements and allow someone to make incorrect assumptions, but she won't say what isn't true. She's completely honest, even with herself, including what she feels. She closer to her emotions...and her instincts than most people can even imagine letting themselves. How did she phrase it? 'I wear civilization like a cloak to be buttoned up or completely cast aside as I choose.' She can be very...dark when she's moved to it. Savage. She'll come right out and admit she could do unspeakable things if she let herself. She called that fool I conned at the expo a living monument to her self-control. If she gets placed in a situation where she can justify letting the beast go, she will and that would not be good. I think that is one of the few things she really fears." Sophie took a thoughtful sip of her tea.

"That she could really hurt or even kill someone. I know the feeling." Eliot busied himself with his meal.

Sophie was quiet a moment. "No. It's not that she could, it's that she would. There would be no remorse, no guilt. If it got to that point, she would do it and enjoy it. She's afraid she couldn't bottle it back up again."

Eliot's head jerked up. Hardison froze, "da-mn". Parker didn't react really at all, not on the outside.

"They aren't going to stop are they? They are going to keep pushing until she pushes them back and she will only have to do it once. She only does something once because she intends it to last. They have no clue they would be safer in jail." Sophie looked at the others thoughtfully.

"No. They ain't stoppin'. They think they're invincible. They're above the law. They think they can do whatever they want, because no one can stop them. Lockin' them up is the best thing for 'em. They'll be alive" Eliot looked at the grifter and nodded in agreement to her unspoken question.

"So we need to do something, before someone winds up dead. What have we got we can use?" Sophie had committed to this now and she would do it right. It would be planned and worked out to the last detail and they would try to keep direct contact to a minimum.

"Well, the DEA is sniffin' around in Lexington tryin' to help the cops find where the meth is comin' from. They just have no clue to look clear out here." Eliot looked around the table. "I know we can use that. The question is how."

"Haywood can't do squat about Feds, except avoid 'em." Hardison glanced over his shoulder at his laptop.

"One federal agency is good. More is better." Their temporary leader toyed with her spoon.

"The FBI? They have to be invited in don't they, like vampires." The hacker went to refill his bowl.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Homeland Security." The older woman took a spoonful of soup to cover her smile.

"What would they be doing out here?" Parker was confused.

"Hunting terrorists." Sophie smiled and took another bite.

"Why would they think there's terrorists out here?" Hardison sat down and looked at her.

"Because that's what we are going to tell them." The grifter smiled and leaned forward. "Think about it. They are already hunting the source of the drugs. They know they are coming from somewhere and a lot of money, untraceable money, is going back there. Whoever is supplying the drugs is very careful and very organized. Why wouldn't they believe that terrorists are using the ugly side of America to fund it's activities? Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't one of the main ingredients of methamphetamine be also used to make explosives?" She looked at Eliot for confirmation.

"I see where you're goin'. They'll be tracing the money and find Haywood and racketeering and drug distribution aren't nearly as scary as Patriot Act. But how are we gonna make them act. They take their time. Check things. They don't swoop in without a very good reason." Eliot leaned back and contemplated the plan thus far.

"Make them think someone's going to blow something up." Parker was working on her second sandwich. "I'm really hungry."

"Not quite the terrorist act I had in mind, but that's the general idea." Sophie nodded at the thief. "Hardison, when you get done, I want background on Heywood. I need angles. He's a politician. He's nothing, but angles. If we're going to send a shopping list with Billy, we'd best be making one. Didn't you mention you were going out?" Once on the job, she was in her element.

Eliot rounded up a paper and pen. "Yeah, I had Hardison come up with some possible locations for the drug labs or hiding the cars. Rental properties, storage lockers, vacant buildings, remote locations. I thought Parker and I might do some recon this afternoon, since Billy wouldn't miss us."

"Good idea on the recon. Hardison and I can be digging here and pass our plans on to Nate while you two do that, but you do realize Billy will know you two did something, if she doesn't already suspect you're planning on it. She'll let you keep her out of the loop, but you will know that she knows."

Eliot grumbled and took stock of the cabinets rather than answer. Sophie simply finished her meal with a faint smile. She did relish a challenge and convincing two federal agencies of an imminent terrorist act funded by drugs with minimal contact might just be a big enough one to keep her from worrying about Nate...so much.

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Parker had gotten the job of delivering the final list of supplies to Billy before she left for two important reasons. One, she had already been to the house and knew where she was going and, two, the thief could be expected to slip in without the elderly woman noticing. The several page list and a pre-paid credit card to cover it was tucked in her pocket as she slipped over the fence and darted across to the balcony stairs. She was almost annoyed to find that the door to the upstairs hall was unlocked.

"It wasn't locked." The thief commented as soon as she entered the room, before locating the occupant, flittering about her closet and dresser.

"I know. I intend to use it shortly. There's no way I'm gonna try gettin' past Gran like this." Billy was fumbling with something the other woman couldn't see and, when she turned around, Parker saw what she meant. Without the bulky vest she wore most of the time, the change in silhouette that heralded her growing child was apparent.

"Buddy, I know growin' is pretty important and all right now, and I'm for it, more 'an anyone, but do you suppose you could ease up a bit until I don't need my good clothes to fit? Didn't think so."

She finally managed to get the dress pants to fasten with the aid of a paperclip, added a belt, and buttoned the plaid vest, hiding the improvisation from view.

"My clan's tartan, well huntin' tartan. The actual tartan is a little loud. Cream and navy is a little more formal than lemon yellow and royal blue."

She gestured at the patterned fabric with one hand as the other draped her tie around her neck, before quickly doing it up and settling the knot at her throat. She tossed the battered wristwatch in a duffel-bag and fastened a pocket watch to the vest, checked the time, and tucked it in the pocket. Dress boots were stepped into. Cufflinks and a propeller tie tack were fastened in place. Wallet, keys, phone, pen, and notepad found their way into pockets. A little hair gel slicked through hair that was slightly damp cleared the dark waves from her eyes as she double checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked over the contents of the duffel and then zipped it.

"I guess that's it. You got your list?"

"That's everything we could think of and there's enough on the card to cover it."

Billy glanced at the lengthy list and at the piece of plastic in her hand. Then, she accepted the words with a cock of the head, tucking both items in the inner pocket of the vest. She shouldered the bag, snatched a raincoat from behind the door, and inclined her head towards the outer door, waiting for Parker to come.

As both stepped out on the balcony, Billy paused to gaze westward. The faint movement she made with her fingers looked as if her were doing math in her head.

"Depends on how long my errands take. I can feel the storm comin', but I can't see it yet. Really feel it, not just the dull ache in my bad wrist when a system is moving in. That means more than four hours, less than six." She offered the thief a smile. "I've always been good at readin' bad weather. Once it's on the horizon, I can figure it to about fifteen minutes, anywhere. Here, I can within five. My best is three. If you're gonna run wild outside like I did growin' up, it helps to know when to head for cover. Means I know this place like I know myself and read the weather like a picture book." She stretched a little. "Stay out of trouble or, at least, don't get caught." With that, she took off for the steps that led to her car.

Parker waited until the faded blue car left the driveway, and had turned in the direction of town and the main highway, before she made her way back to where Eliot waited with the van just out of sight. Hopping in the passenger seat, she nodded at the hitter as he started it up.

"We have at least four hours before it rains, but no more than six."

Focused on the map, she didn't see the strange look Eliot gave her as they set out for the closest storage unit.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9- Whatever You Do Today, You'll Have To Sleep With Tonight

A/N- Sorry for the delay. I'd hoped to have this out by the end of February, but was sick a week and had to play catch up. Hopefully, this being the second longest chapter so far and knowing that large portions of 10 and 11 were written concurrently with this chapter will serve as an apology. Now, to leave you all to the story and me to work on the official and finalized version of 10. Happy reading.

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Nate had just drifted out of deeper sleep and was on the verge of returning to it when he heard a voice.

"Hello, Nate."

_ Sterling. Well, he's not leaving, so I might make the best of it. _He eased himself up in bed.

"Finally awake. For a while, I thought you were playing the part of Sleeping Beauty. I had no intention of trying to wake you, though I was interested in seeing if Ms. Devereaux would be reprising her role of Princess Charming. I hear she's quite convincing. Several wealthy men paid a great deal for her performances." The Interpol agent moved from the doorway he'd been leaning on to one of the guest chairs.

Nate studied the man who'd been his best friend for years, disguising it, he hoped, as revery. "I know I've always enjoyed watching her, regardless of the role." _Buried frustration, the man reeks of it. If I add just a little fuel to the fire..._

"Sorry to disappoint you, Old Friend. But she isn't coming. None of them are." Sterling crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand- a pose of calculated nonchalance if ever there were one.

_If he wants casual... "_That's a shame. If one of you were going to kiss me, I'd rather have her. I remember Barcelona and I doubt your technique has improved that much." He remembered the case fondly. They'd been sent to look into a club fire and had found themselves in a gay disco and forced to blend in. He remembered coming home to Maggie after. He'd brought flowers and fell to his knees seriously. _*"I kissed someone else." Maggie had taken a breath. "Were they prettier than me?" "No, you've seen Jim." He smiled. She laughed. They'd made up for the time apart.*_

"You honestly still think they are coming for you." The other man was getting annoyed. _Not if everything goes according to plan, but you don't know that._

"And you're sure they aren't?" Nate rattled the handcuff keeping him stationary. "I think this proves you don't even know me as well as you think you do." _Bait him, challenge him. He'll tell me what he thinks he knows, but then he'll put his guard up and watch for them on the move. If what they're in the middle of is a bad as I think it is,they'll be there for a few weeks yet._

"Nate, you really have lost yourself. Do you know what happened after your _noble_ sacrifice? They ran." Nate turned his head away as if he didn't want to hear it. "Once that helicopter landed, they boarded a private plane bound for New Jersey. When they got there, they hid themselves with a group of tourists headed north for Minnesota Lake country. I then have them chartering a boat for Canada. That's where they split up." Sterling got up and walked around to stand in front of Nate. "Your 'princess' arranged a flight to the South Pacific...a quaint little island paradise with no extradition treaty. Mr. Hardison has covered his tracks very well. We've traced a few leads that place him in Singapore. As for the last two of your cohorts, we believe Mr. Spencer has arranged passage on a freighter headed overseas and is working it off in trade. I'm tracking all the freighters leaving the area and will have their crews accounted for when they dock. Parker has done what Parker does and disappear. We'll pick up her trail again when some shiny bauble goes missing. Did I miss something?"

Nate looked him in the eyes. "Eliot could have hitched a ride to one of the coasts. He's driven trucks before." The mastermind hoped his relief was mistaken for simply giving up. "But until you have them, you can't be sure when any of them are. For all you know, they could be having lunch down in the cafeteria. Speaking of... slide my tray here would you?" He watched the other man's face. Sterling was shaken, but he was still certain he was right and Nate was grasping at straws. As long as the other man stayed off balance, Nate controlled the game.

He had to keep Sterling focused on here and the distant there, not in-between. The team as a whole was playing a much more drawn out game this time. They weren't driving the mark into a corner so much as laying traps for him to fall into. They needed time, but they seemed to be under everyone's radar and that gave them all the time they needed. He had seen the way Sterling had pulled the man on his door aside as he left. He was worried and looking for a battle, but he was preparing the wrong battlefield. He was like the Germans waiting at Calais on D-Day and believing Normandy to be the diversion until it was too late.

Nate could play this game all day. It was really all he had to do until Hardison updated him later. He would eat his meal and go back to sleep until tonight. Sterling had the wrong fairy tale in mind. He wasn't the evil witch watching Sleeping Beauty. He was the fool that wanders into the den of the sleeping dragon and it would take a far nobler knight than James Sterling to slay Nathan Ford.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_ Providing every single tidbit on Haywood for Sophie, laying a variety of false leads for Sterling, keeping Nate updated on their job and his case, and feeding information to Parker and Eliot as needed kept Alec Hardison busy enough that he forgot to worry for a while. He just didn't have time. A fleeting second to down some orange soda was about all he got, then either an alert popped up for his attention or someone asked him something that sent him diving back into cyberspace to find the answer. He wondered briefly if he had requested enough gummy frogs and soda to hold him for a while at the rate he was going through it. He hoped he had. He was going to need them.

It hadn't been until Sophie had placed a bowl of soup in from of him that he even realized he was a little hungry again. He'd been so charged up about going to work right after lunch, he'd skipped his customary thirds. The young hacker slowed down enough to eat, but kept monitoring his snoopers and tracking Eliot and Parker. It seemed like he had a brief lull to have his meal in until he was alerted to Sterling calling the Federal prosecutor and then he had to patch that into the comms so they all could hear.

Sterling was already trying to move things along even though the doctors said the earliest Nate would be released was ten days to two weeks. Sterling didn't have much of a case and none of the "co-conspirators" had been found. The Interpol agent still wanted his prized prisoner put somewhere secure, not that there really was such a place in a modern, free society.

The status update on the search for the four of them was reassuring. The search had been refocused internationally and the only alerts for them domestically were token at best. The usual wanted notices and flags on whatever bits of information that Sterling had, like bank accounts and aliases.

What the agent didn't know was that Hardison has systematically tweaked the information the authorities had in their possession. Fingerprints had been replaced by those belonging to people dead for over a decade with no record and guaranteed to generate no match. Account data was swapped with dormant accounts that were only a few numbers off. Pictures on record had the file encryption skewed just enough that facial recognition wouldn't throw out a match. Sterling thought he had the information, it just wasn't quite right. He might eventually realize that and demand the originals be reentered and, when he did, he'd find Hardison had flagged them electronically for destruction and most had been. There were a few things that he hadn't been able to get sent to the incinerator so he'd switched the file numbers and kept the real location tucked away until he got another idea. Even if cops would run them for some reason, they'd come up clean. Even if they had to explain the new van Sophie had acquired with all its equipment, he had his FBI credentials and had created an alias for the van itself. If that plate was run, it would come up registered to an FBI shell company used for surveillance and tail cars. Not a cop in the country would be willing to risk a federal operation.

After Sterling had hung up, they returned to their recon with just a little clearer focus. They were just far enough ahead of Sterling that they could breathe. Hardison had so far managed to tag the phones of eleven of Sterling's underlings that had been sent out to look for them. He could monitor all communications sent from them and their locations. Most of them were too far away to be of any concern. A few junior men had been kept close to Sterling and Nate for security and one was running around pursuing what Sterling probably believed were pointless leads. Soon enough, the heat would die down and they wouldn't be concerned at all.

It wasn't even three yet and they had eliminated all the possibilities near or in towns. It made sense that they would want something more secluded. So far the only thing they found was guy hiding things from his soon to be ex-wife in a unit rented under a false name. Eliminating those less isolated areas allowed Hardison to focus better on the backgrounds of the other locations. With a big job like this, allocating limited resources was almost as important as the con itself. He was glad he had the idea to mount cameras and mics on the van to give them extra eyes and ears. He'd have to come up with a more permanent set up later. It gave them a way to have their friends' backs even if they couldn't be there. He could run faces and plates through a search with little effort.

A vacant homestead was crossed off almost as soon as the mobile pair arrived. The weeds in the long driveway were undisturbed and a chain hung between the posts. Eliot had Parker stay back with the van, tucked out of sight from the road by a bend in what Eliot suggested was a hunting path back into the woods. He disappeared out of camera as he made is way up the lane to the buildings to look around.

"Nothing. Just deserted. Cross this place off, Hardison. No one's been here in a while. What's the deal with it?" The older man's voice betrayed genuine curiosity.

Hardison pulled up the history for the place he'd found when he's added it to the list of abandoned land. "Uh, Leeland Nash died of a heart attack early last spring clearing his lane of snow. His wife died about five years ago and he left it to a son and daughter. The son is a CPA in Nashville and the daughter has a nursing job in West Virginia. They just haven't sold it with the market what it is, if I had to guess." Now, they all were curious as to why the other man was interested, but didn't ask.

Tension ramped back up when a truck stopped on the road as Parker and Eliot were looking at a map on the hood. Hardison and Sophie leaned closer to the monitors as Hardison adjusted the video and audio for better focus.

"Can I help you folks?" The old man offered a smile with the few tobacco stained teeth he had left.

"Naw, sir." Eliot went up and offered his hand to the old-timer. "We were just drivin' about. My daddy used to bring me out here huntin' as a boy. Jerome Gantry, folks called him Buck. I'm Tom, Tom Gantry. I haven't been out this way in years, but, when Dad passed a few years ago, I decided I'd do some of the things we used to do together again. The two of us were headed out this way anyhow and I thought I'd see if anything looked familiar. Been so long and things look different to a boy." He allowed his drawl to deepen and leaned against the side of the truck as if he'd met the man before.

"Gantry." The man wiped his face with a bandana. "I think that name sounds familiar. I used to keep the general store years back. My girl and her man run it now and I just help out now and then."

"We had an old gray Chevy with a camper? Dad would buy chewin' tobacco in huntin' season so there wouldn't be any smoke smell?" The hitter's tone made it sound as if he were trying to jog memories when he was really creating them. It was one of the foundations of the grift and one Sophie had drilled into all of them.

"That sounds familiar. You was just a little thing. Used to eye the candy and, once in a while, he'd buy you a treat if you'd behaved?" With the vivid 'new' memories to work from, his subconscious, desperate to find what it was sure was there, had offered up fragments in hopes something would fit.

"Sounds right. After Ma took sick, we didn't come out here much, maybe one more time. Did you have ice cream? Or am I thinkin' of some place else?" Eliot scratched his jaw in feigned recall.

"I had an ice cream counter, but I doubt you was wantin' it in huntin' weather." The old man was now trying to help him 'recall' his childhood.

"Maybe it was someplace when we went fishin'..." He mumbled for effect.

"Could be. There's a place on the back side of the park that sells ice cream and fishin' gear, hikin' gear, anything folks want for in the park or out on the lake really. If this place seems familiar to you, your dad might have known Lee Nash. One of the best fishermen in the county. He did a stretch in the Army. If your old man did too, they could have met there. Lee had a lot of old Army buddies out over the years to hunt and fish. Shame he passed last year. He'd have liked to see you and probably could have filled in a few things." The old man gave him a look of regret. "Not many folks from that circle left. Old timers pass and the youngsters just don't recall. They just don't pay attention to the stories, not interested in the history. You didn't say what you were out huntin', but, if'in' you was after coon, Egan Carlisle's widow up on the ridge might know somethin'. He hunted mostly for hides, but he hunted a little of everything, one time or 'nother though. He knew most ev'r'body that hunted, fished, or trapped out in these parts. He was also known for bringin' them home for the missus to feed with no warnin'"

"I might have to try visitin'. Up on the ridge you say?" Eliot glanced around as if he was getting his bearings.

"Good. That way if you get spotted up here, you'll have an excuse."Sophie reassured over the comm.

"Just go back to town and turn onto Carlisle Street as it goes up. Can't miss the place. There's a hill you go down and the first thing to see comin' up is that old barn of theirs. Know what, if you're headed through town tomorrow, the whole clan will be celebratin' at the hall. The youngest of the grandchildr'n is graduatin' school. Stop by. Have a meal. Might even see you there. I'd best be goin'. Told my wife I wouldn't be long." He shook Eliot's hand again and tipped his hat to Parker as he drove off.

Hardison sighed in relief, even if he hadn't been as exposed as the other two. "I thought we had a problem. I don't have anything made up on this Gantry, but I can put enough together that no one would..." The Hacker automatically started doing what he needed to create an identity.

"Don't bother. Already taken care of. You can forget what you heard." The hitter growled into the comm.

The man didn't clarify, but they knew without asking. Tom Gantry was an identity the retrieval specialist had in reserve, possibly one saved for his eventual retirement. They all had them and they kept them carefully guarded, even from each other. Either he had been desperate for a back story to use it, or, there was a remote possibility of it, but he could be considering something long term.

"Well, if we swing around the far side of the park, there's a really big storage place." Parker pointed to the map like nothing had happened. "There's, like, nothing nearby and the units are big." They got back into the van and started towards the site, discussing the various factors in how suited the site was to the purpose.

Hardison broke into the conversation. "The guy that owns it promotes it as boat, ATV, or RV storage. He lets you pay a year at a time and most of the contracts are from summer to summer."

"Makes sense. People simply leave it here and pay the storage fees when they come down on holiday." Sophie leaned over his shoulder. "Hardison accessed his records. Fift...no, sixteen are empty. They could be squatting in one of those."

"Too risky. It gets rented and they get found. They'll have paid for it. It's ideal. Most people are seasonal. They only come by in the summer and they won't know a stranger from a local and a local would just reckon they were another out-of-towner." Eliot was navigating around the perimeter of the huge holding that made up the park. "Focus on the ones that don't have something to store. No boats, RV's, ATV's."

"I got you. Find the ones that don't have a good reason to rent a big space." Hardison swigged his soda and bent over his keyboard.

"What about those mobile labs? An RV could be used for one. I saw it on TV." Parker made a valid point.

Eliot parked the van outside the gate, knowing no one would think twice about a strange car, and got out. "Focus on ones with lapsed tags or no insurance. They aren't going to leave a lot of paper. See if any are paid in cash. We'll do a spot check of the vacant ones, but if there's one here, it's probably paid for. Which is the closest empty or suspect lease?" The gate opened to Parker's picks and they slipped inside.

"D7." Sophie was directing them so Hardison could dig. He was matching the names on the leases with boat and RV owners. In the background, they could hear the hitter telling Parker what not to do if they found one.

If was forty-five minutes of exploring until it happened, Parker opened the lock on a maybe and Eliot slid it upwards, just an inch, to peak inside... All four of them froze.

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Parker couldn't believe it. Not only was this the smallest county courthouse she'd ever been in, it was one of the easiest recons they'd ever had. That was enough to make them all nervous again. Something was bound to go wrong and, after the incident at the storage place, it could go very wrong or weird. When they had been driving past and had decided to take a quick look, she hadn't intended this to happen.

A clerk of some kind had seen her taking pictures of the outside of the structure and he fell for her story about the architecture. He had believed it a little too much and had promptly offered to give her a guided tour. She had ignored all of his chatter, responding only when Sophie prompted her to through the comm. She did get all the pictures she wanted, outside and inside. She'd even been shown the basement so she could see the various stages the building had gone through over the years. This was the easiest time she'd ever had mapping a building. The only way it could had been made easier was if he'd told her when it would be empty and gave her a key. She was a little disappointed at the lack of a challenge, but a challenge meant risks and risks were bad when you were hiding.

No one was more surprised than Parker that she had become a victim of her own success on the grift. It was keeping her from making a clean get away. Her volunteer tour guide was now giving her a list of other interesting buildings in the area and names of people she might like to talk to. At least when he'd suggested that she enter the photo contest for the Chamber of Commerce calender, she'd found an out.

"How much longer will the office be open?" She hoped it was closing soon, so she'd have an excuse to hurry away.

Consulting his phone, he frowned. "Wow, I should be gettin' back. They should be open until four. The entry forms are on the counter." He called back over his shoulder. "If you're gonna be around at sunset on a nice day, try and see about gettin' a shot of the Baptist Temple. The color of the sunset reflectin' on the dome and white stone is really pretty."

When the far too helpful man was hidden by the doors, Parker dashed for the van. She'd have to ask someone what that grinding noise was on the comms. It sounded like Hardison, so asking him wouldn't be good. The recon had been good. Not only had she gotten all the photos she needed, she'd grabbed a couple county maps to plan from. She'd never tell Hardison, but she trusted paper more than the computers. Maps worked in a blackout.

Eliot returned to the van not long after she did. He'd wanted to walk the surrounding blocks, in case they needed alternate exits. She offered him one of the maps and he made a few notations on it before they started out for the last stop on their list. They'd found a few small set ups, but nothing that would account for the volume of product. They had stumbled onto a chop shop though. It was too nice a set up to not be a big time operation. It had to be one connected to Haywood. More digging for Hardison.

Their next stop would have to be meth central to even account for a majority of what was finding its way back to Lexington. They hoped it would be a short recon, but it wasn't to be. That much was clear to moment it came into sight. Well, that wasn't true. It started when they turned off the highway onto the side road and passed a sign proclaiming :

"Wally's U-Store and Flea Market

Sale- Fri. Sat. and Sun. May thru Aug.- rain or shine

$5 a table for non renters, non profits _FREE_"

When they actually made it to Wally's, it was crowded. It was mostly the devout Friday crowd and those manning booths, but they'd certainly be seen if they tried to break into lockers.

"Let's go. There are too many people for this to be it." Parker whispered to Eliot.

"Hold on. We're missin' something. I just don't know what. Let's look around anyway. A lot of these lockers are open. We can cross them off now and we won't have to check them later." Eliot caught her arm before she could open the door. "If they try to corner you to make a deal, tell them you don't have cash on you, and you need to talk to me." She nodded and opened the door, grabbing a pair of Hardison's camera sunglasses.

They ignored the rows near the fence that were made up of the paid tables under improvised shelter and headed for the storage buildings proper. The first two belonged to a church. The backs of both were used for storing church property while the front housed donated items that were sold to raise money for their food bank and charity programs or passed on directly to people who needed them. Parker was ready to move on and cocked her head up the line, but Eliot was talking to one of the older ladies manning a table of baked goods. He bought a peach cobbler and slipped a five dollar bill (with a hundred tucked inside) into a collection jar on the table.

"What was that?" Parker was curious.

"Local grocery offered to sell them some second hand refrigeration equipment and a freezer for five thousand and they're trying to get enough collected to buy it. They seem to be gettin' plenty of food donated, but they don't always have the room. Some people store it for them at their houses until they get room for it at the church." Eliot seemed to be a little invested, but Parker could see why. He loved to cook and feeding people meant something to him.

The thief nodded and they moved on up the row, casually looking at things along the way and feeding the locker numbers into the comms. Parker actually bought a book. It was Dickens with the one she'd read on one side and one about the guy who did magic on TV on the other. The drawing on the cover didn't look much like him though.

They both took their time when they were halfway up the backside of the first building. Two women tending their booth caught their attention, but the subject had nothing to do with their current job. They'd decided to eavesdrop.

"Will you be okay mannin' the booth alone tomorrow, Angie? I could drop Elise off to help in the morning if you want. I'm supposed to be out at the Home Place at nine to help get the food ready and over to the community building before the party at two. Granny and Aunt Anne will leave at ten-thirty to be over there in time for graduation. Mom and all seven of us are supposed to be there to help get ready, but Josey gets out of it and it's her sister graduatin'!"

"Les, is Josey even comin'? If those two fight the way you say, I can see why she gets out of it. It's hard to shake hands with the guest of honor when she's on the verge of stranglin' her sister."

"I guess you're right." Les got up to rearrange a table. "I don't get it though. There's as much space between me and Patsy as Billy and Josey and we don't end up in screamin' matches at the drop of a hat. I have no idea how it happened, but they went from 'will you get something out of my car?' to something about replacin' an alternator in the snow in a Walmart parkin' lot!" She resorted some clothes.

"Okay, Lesley, I can watch the booth. You can even keep Ellie, but if Josey shows up, you call me. I want to see the fireworks. It's gonna be packed isn't it?"

"The smart one is graduatin' high school with a full ride to college. Relatives from at least five states are comin' in. A whole hog is going in the roaster as we speak and another in the mornin'."

"I may have to drop in just for the food. I did get a card...and a dinosaur. She wants to do geology right? They dig up dinosaurs." Angie laughed.

"I think it's more rocks, but she's got a lot of fossils. She loaned Troy some for his science fair exhibit and he took first place for non-workin' displays. It's gonna be bor-ing if Josey isn't there. Billy is just gonna hide out in some corner with a book the whole time. My little cousin is a hermit. She's gonna be an old maid with her cats at this rate. She'd probably faint if she saw a guy naked."

Parker found herself pulled in the neighboring locker before the giggling set in. Sophie was chuckling quietly from the other end of the comms.

"Faint indeed." The older woman was no doubt trying to reconcile Lesley's image of her shy, brainy cousin with her own memories of the confident predator on the hunt she'd seen luring her prey off for a tryst. The others were thinking of some very concrete proof that would be blowing that notion out of the water very soon.

They covered the whole area, eliminating lockers, mapping security, and making a few token purchases here and there. Hardison had squealed in their ears over an "action figure" at one booth and they'd had to buy it to shut him up. By the time they reached the far side of the complex, they hadn't found anything, but Eliot kept looking through the fence at the edges of the park rising up the ridge as it started to sprinkle.

"What is it?" Parker had learned to trust her instincts early and had come to rely on Eliot's as well.

"I don't know. There's somethin'. I just can't put my finger on it." He growled as they crossed a shallow puddle forming between the building and the fence. "Let's get back."

The van was warm and dry as they started back to base. The wind had really picked up, bringing the storm system in to settle into the valley. The urgency in their return trip had less to do with any major desire to avoid the rain and more about avoiding the chance of leaving tire tracks in the gravel driveway and give away their presence. They were on still on the run after all.

Hardison was rambling on about the databases he was digging through. Parker tried to listen. She really did, but she was more interested in the photos of the courthouse and the outlying annex she was looking at on the tiny preview screen. The annex was the home of the Health Department and Record Office. The courthouse itself would be the main goal. The security system wouldn't be an issue, but the emergency dispatch office was in the basement so it was never empty. At some point, they would have to access Haywood's office and when they did, she'd be ready. Now to get back and get bigger versions of her pictures.

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Sophie let her head fall back and drew in a deep breath, willing the looming headache to go away. With the emotional roller coaster of this afternoon's recon, the shock of being brought into a job in progress right under her nose, and the annoyance of dealing with a politician's ambition running amok being piled on top of the stress she was already feeling, she was honestly surprised it hadn't shown up earlier. She needed another cup of tea and long vacation, see a show or visit a museum. Later, though, this was now.

They would do this job while they waited for their chance to make a move on Nate. They would lay low and gather intel on that front as Eliot put it. Right now, they needed to figure out how to do this job without getting noticed. They had to be ghosts. Their mark needed to bring himself down with the least interference from them. The planning had to be flawless. Redundancies needed redundancies. That meant they needed to crawl into Brent Haywood's head. That was her job and she'd need a week at a spa to feel clean again.

"Ugh, politicians." She shook her head and stood.

"I feel you." Hardison looked up from his screens, feeling the same relief she did with Eliot and Parker inbound. "Gives me the creeps just doin' background on this guy."

The woman nodded and gathered what she needed for her tea. It wasn't lost on her the way the young man kept one eye on the tracker in their van. Hardison had been using the brief moments that he didn't spend sleeping, eating, in the bathroom, or at his computers doing this job and monitoring the situation with Sterling and Nate to outfit their current van. One of the first things he'd done was to install a locator chip like in their comms so he could find it if they became separated from it. He'd installed camera and sound pickups at the same time giving them remote eyes and ears that seemed to be proving useful already. Now, Parker and Eliot just needed to make it back and they could update their general course of action. To come up with the plan or rather plans, because a backup or twenty never hurt in this business, they needed to get inside Brent Haywood's mind. That was her area of expertise and they were counting on her.

_ Ruddy politicians!_ She hadn't be lying when she'd called them all angles before. They have a different face for every situation and she had the misfortune of being the one most qualified to carve up his various public faces and cobble them back together to give them an idea of who they were dealing with. To do that, she needed every article, interview, email, photograph, and barest scrap of information to work with. She basically had to profile each version of him, had to figure out how that all went together with the hidden version of himself, and, then, find his weak spot, their way in. She just had a lot to crawl through to get there and it felt like she was wading through the sewers the whole time.

If this rain built into a storm like it seemed to be, then she might have to take a long bath as a treat and then settle on the back porch to finish up her assessment of Haywood. That sounded lovely and it would be just enough to entice her to focus fully on the task. The lure of warm water in the old clawfoot tub must have done the trick, because she didn't realize Parker and Eliot had gotten back until she heard them on the porch outside.

Eliot opened the door and Parker skipped to Hardison's side to download the photos she took and spread out her maps, while Eliot went to the kitchen instead. He put his cobbler on the counter and checked to see what he had to start dinner with.

"Oh, hey, Hardison. Here's your doll." He tossed the toy in the hacker's direction and laughed as Hardison struggled to catch it without damaging the packaging.

"Action figure. It's a collector's item. Do you know..." Hardison started to go into a spiel on whatever it was they'd brought him, but stopped when he seemed to realize that no one was even listening. Parker had her maps. Eliot was in his kitchen. Sophie was still delving into Haywood's psyche and had only looked up to see what kind of photos Parker had gotten of Haywood's home when they'd passed it circling the park.

Once she had those photos in her hand, the grifter settled back into her little world profiling the county prosecutor and leaving the others to their own tasks. It was over an hour of the occasional request or comment being the only interruption in the steady sounds of the strengthening rain and the incidental noises of each one doing their small part of the larger job. In the end, it was Eliot that drew them back in as a group.

He must have reached a point where he could leave the food, because he came into the main room and leaned over Hardison's shoulder.

"Somethin's buggin' me. I feel like we're missin' somethin' and it's right in front of me." The older of the two men flexed his hands before clenching them into fists.

"Tell me what you want, so we can find you something to hit." Hardison carefully scooted his new treasure further away from the reach of the frustrated hands. "You want me to pull up the stills and video from today and see what jumps out at you?"

"I don't have time for that right now." He glanced quickly over to the kitchen. "Maybe we're lookin' at this the wrong way. Can you pull up a county map?" Parker offered him the map she'd given him earlier. He unfolded it, but still looked at the hacker expectantly until he pulled up a satellite overview of the whole county. "There has to be a pattern. Organized crime is just that, organized. We just haven't seen it."

Sophie had joined then at their makeshift command post. "Well, the lynchpin of this arrangement is that Haywood gives them protection. They have to be operating where he has jurisdiction. That means it has to be inside the county, but it can't be on a site that isn't under his authority. Anything inside the park itself is under a different jurisdiction. We can rule that out." She pointed at the very large, pale green area of Eliot's map.

"Okay, I get you. If we eliminate the areas outside Haywood's protection, like the park and any other state or federally owned or managed facilities... " The area outside the county line and several patches inside faded out.

"He's going to avoid places where they'd be seen coming and going or it could be found by accident." Parker was looking intently over Hardison's shoulder and pointed to an area surrounding a small lake. "They won't have anything there either. It's a gated community. Plus it's really close to Haywood's house."

Hardison quickly isolated the boundaries and eliminated it. "Any open public area like golf courses, community parks, schools, those would be out too. It'd be too hard to hide."

Eliot looked at his own map and then back at the screen. "Can you mark what we've already found? And eliminate the places we've eliminated completely?" Several areas lit up and several more faded.

Sophie pointed at several areas. "We've established that he's trying to stay under the radar. He won't have a lab or chop shop in town, so I think anything inside the city or town limit can be ruled out." She looked at the others for confirmation. They were in agreement and more of the map became gray. Their planning session was interrupted by the sound of an engine outside. Parker carefully crept to the window and peeked through the blinds.

"Billy's back...and she has cereal." The thief took off through the door towards the gate. Eliot jerked his head at Hardison as a silent command to hide their plan and the maps and followed Parker out. Sophie returned to her old seat.

She watched them all from the couch, studying their behavior, looking for their motivation and state of mind. If she was going to keep them together and going, she needed to know where they were in their heads.

Her two teammates came back in with loads of supplies, Billy carrying several packages herself and looking very much as she had when the two had met. Dark hair slicked down, one curl dangling in her eyes. Carefully polished cowboy boots on her feet. Khaki pants, topped by a French blue dress shirt, navy tie, and the familiar plaid vest in cream and navy the grifter recognized as the Clan Carlisle's subdued or "hunting" tartan. All three were dotted with rain drops and water dripped from them and the bags.

"You always do clean up quite nicely." She smiled at the young woman.

"And you always look the part, whatever it may be." The Brit received a rare, shy smile, the one she knew as genuine, accompanied by a playful cock of the head.

"Well, someone is working on their flattery. Did you use that at your meeting?" The slight smirk and mischievous duck of the head were the only reply.

"I don't lie, but words have so many meanin's and people always prefer hearing compliments, even if they have to furnish them themselves." The young woman's natural sense of ease also likely caused them to drop their guard and keep them from thinking too deeply.

There was a certain coyness that hadn't been there three years ago though. _She's growing up, maturing._ The young woman started unpacking things onto the counter alongside Eliot and Parker and folding up the few cloth bags to go back out with her.

"Did things work out?" Sophie was trying to prod out the source of the tension she'd been feeling the last few times they'd been together while she had the chance.

"Uh-huh. I will be commutin' this fall. Tuition was covered and now Ma won't have to pay the rest of the room and board. I've got a meetin' with the scholarship board Wednesday to see if that unused housing money can go to my books or somethin'. I think I've got a real good case for that. The wordin' of it is that the purpose is 'to relieve the financial burden of higher education to a worthy scholar, payable in the value of full tuition and half of all housing costs'. It says 'the value of tuition and half of housing' not just 'tuition and half of housing'. They've got to match that value or they'll breach contract and it's signed and legal."

Sophie couldn't help, but be amused. She'd been drawn to the young woman's cool reasoning and agile mind and time had only honed both. That and the mannerisms had been very useful for a few of her cons. The way that Billy changed the way she spoke based on the topic and situation was subtle and it had taken her some time to analyze it and apply it. The mix of Southern accent and the air of old gentry combined with a keen intellect and excellent education was a useful character in her stock cast. The softening of the words, the choice of which to use, the way Billy had of sharpening the pronunciation when she was quoting something, using academic terms, or leading someone through a reasoning path and then dropping back had actually helped Sophie sell a few of her personas. Most people concluded that the switch back and forth was a form of too deeply ingrained code-switching to be faked, similar to the way people with a bilingual upbringing swing between the two without hesitation or even awareness. Hadn't 'Kitty' proved that when they helped Amy and her father. The blend of southern manners and the airs of a country squire had that fool convinced he was the dangerous one. She hadn't been a grifter for this long without learning that the most dangerous person in the room wasn't the most obvious one. Seeing Eliot in action was a perfect demonstration.

"Well, even with all the changes coming, you still seem to have a handle on things." The older woman genuinely liked the girl and wished her the best. She'd always thought people who never wanted much and were pleased with the simple things should get them.

"Thanks. Wish I felt that way." Billy sighed and turned to face her, leaning against the counter. Only years of practice helped Sophie hide her surprise when she took a good look at her young friend.

"You're going to be someone's mum." She breathed out her observation without really thinking about it.

The young woman chuckled briefly. "Annnnnnd... you didn't know...I kinda am already. Seein' that vitamins get taken. Puttin' away clothes and toys. Doctors appointments. Snatchin' the cigarette out some jerk's mouth who won't put it out and snubbin' it on his forehead." A dark edge creeped into her voice for an instant before she reigned it in again, though she subconsciously slipped her hand under her vest and stroked her thumb across her lower abdomen.

"I thought I smelled cigarette smoke." Eliot mumbled from where he was organizing the refrigerator.

"Yeah, he's got lots of stuff for being such a tiny person." Parker had settled in on the counter with a bowl of cereal.

"Done a bit of shopping already?" Sophie smiled at her. The mental image of the sometimes awkward tomboy looking at baby clothes was a somewhat humorous one.

"Just things that caught my eye. I didn't even know what I had already until I looked through it all last night and put it in the dresser in the room he'll use. Picked up a few things today even." The girl ducked her head and the grifter thought she saw a hint of a blush before it was blocked from view. The way she crossed her fingers each time the baby was referred to as "he" didn't go unnoticed either. _I doubt she'd genuinely be upset with a daughter, but I think she's hoping for a boy._ Somehow Billy had come through life unequipped for the more traditional aspects of womanhood and, in all honesty, a son would just be a better fit. She wouldn't quite know what to do with a girl. The grifter had to force herself not to laugh at the thought of Billy trying to figure out how to reply one of those questions a girl would normally ask her mother. However, Sophie had no problem what-so-ever conjuring up the mental image of Billy with a dark haired little boy standing, facing her, on her bed as she guided him through the proper way to tie a tie. The older woman smiled a little at the thought and crossed her fingers.

"These belong to you then." Hardison held up a shopping bag from the pile of non-kitchen items that had been left near the couch he'd come to help sort.

Sophie intercepted it from him and couldn't resist looking inside instead of passing it along. She cast the expectant mother an appraising glance and emptied the bag onto her lap for a closer look. Two packages of onsies with the little snaps at the bottom, one in zoo animals and the other with a transportation theme, a pacifier clip with a sail boat, and a changing pad with Noah's Ark accounted for the contents. Indicating the animal onsies and the changing pad, she asked, "A bit of a theme going, is there?"

"Big surprise. The animal lover is drawn to stuff with animals. There's another bag in the car. You should see what I picked up on the clearance table at the campus bookstore." The genuine smile was accompanied by a surprisingly enthusiastic tone. She seemed positively ecstatic. _No_, Sophie matched the smile with her own, _she's glowing_.

"No, it isn't. I brought it in. You said everything in the trunk. It was in the trunk." Parker set the empty bowl in the sink and held up a bag from the floor as she moved to sit with Sophie. The grifter took the bag and quickly came up with a footed suit in UK colors complete with a blue cap with cat ears.

The young woman sighed and moved to sit on the arm of the couch. "I swear I put that stuff in the front. I know the cheap hoodie I bought in extra grande hippo for next fall is in the front seat. The book said that you get spacey. Damn it for bein' right."

"Is that why you got the planner?" Parker waved the book back and forth.

"Mostly it came free when you bought forty dollars in text books. I knew the classes I wanted and they let me register for 'em, so I got some of the course packets and a couple books that weren't cheaper online." Billy shrugged and took the blue onsie from Sophie and laid it across her lap. "They were clearin' out the winter stuff. It's not a real hard timeline, but I think this'll fit before it gets too warm next spring." She placed her left hand gently under the back and shoulders, the cap resting on her wrist, gently grasped the ankles with her right, and gazed down at it, jiggling the feet lightly. The four thieves watched in silence, picturing her holding her baby that same way with ease. That particular smile was one only Parker had seen on her before as she'd caressed the tiny pair of boots the night previous. It wasn't hard to know they weren't the only ones picturing the empty outfit not so empty.

Sophie lightly rested a hand on the young woman's thigh. "You're rather smitten already." Her tone was teasing. Every person in that room was almost painfully aware of how gross an understatement that was. Once the new adult's world had recovered from being knocked off its axis, it was found to be spinning madly on a new one with scarcely any conscious thought. When the idea had been accepted, the reality was almost easy. It was almost as if the moment she finally wrapped her head around a future with this tiny, new person in it, she couldn't contemplate one _without_ it.

Billy tipped her head allowing her sunglasses to slip and make fleeting eye contact possible. It hadn't taken long to learn the sure sign a forthcoming honest and open statement. "Just a little. No one is more surprised by how I feel than I am. Out of everything, that scares me the most." She brushed an imagined bit of dust off the clothing, then folded it up, and placed it in the bag with the rest of the baby things and the planner Parker had been holding. "Uhm, I, uh, I'm gonna get my regular clothes and change before I head to the house. These are a little snug." That they didn't conceal her impending motherhood one bit went unsaid. She took both bags and slipped out.

Sophie looked at the others. "You all knew. That's why she was surprised when I didn't know. That's why you're so gung ho to do this job." She gestured absently in the direction Billy had gone, but focused on the three other thieves.

Eliot spoke up. "I had Hardison do some diggin' and he found the prenatal vitamins purchase and the medical records. Then we looked into that police report she filed and somethin' just wasn't right so we kept diggin' and you saw what we found. They aren't goin' to stop and she's not backin' down. Someone gonna get hurt and it shouldn't be her, well, either of them."

Parker shrugged from her end of the couch. "I saw the baby sock the night we got here, the one she had in her pocket that she held. Why have a baby sock if there isn't a baby?"

Billy's coming back in short circuited the discussion. "Chewin' them out for not tellin' you or just makin' plans and keepin' me out of them?" She was casual with the inquiry, but the knowing smile was well honed. It wasn't about getting information. It was her way of letting them know she knew. "You've been askin' questions and you went somewhere this afternoon. The gate wasn't how I left it. I always arrange it so the lock is tucked between the gate and the post. Less apt to freeze up in the winter... course then I put a couple drops of oil and graphite in it and fit it with a can cover." She shook her head as she ducked into the bathroom, equally amused and irritated by her mind's wandering.

Sophie smirked. The young woman rarely missed things and had a way of controlling the flow of information that made lying almost useless. Even if you did lie, she always let you know she knew. She was content to stay out of it, but she let them know they weren't hiding it from her.

Eliot finished stocking the kitchen. "Well, we've got the pantry filled out and a decent supply of staples. That's set for a while. The bathroom and first aid kit are good. We need to figure out laundry."

Billy exited the small bathroom, shaking out her dress shirt. "The washer and dryer are in the cellar that you can enter direct off the northeast door. After ten, Ma would be sound asleep a floor away and Granny can't hear it, even from the next room. With winter clothes and beddin' bein' packed away and summer stuff comin' out of storage, no one thinks twice about a load goin'. If you need dry cleanin', the only place nearby is a mile east of town. There's a row of places that cater to the people usin' the park and forest near the entrance. We don't have a hotel or motel around really, but there's a campground with a good sized camper-park that rents a few out like rooms. Mostly people use it if they've got folks visitin' and ain't got the room. The mine bought two high end campers and keeps them for when guys come in from corporate or they have a consultant or someone down. The guy at the cleaner'll just figure you're one of them. They'll be empty for another month 'til the accountin' guy comes down to audit in July." The fact she knew so much about the goings on at the mine earned a few surprised looks. "What? Ma's worked there nearly thirty-five years. She knows everythin'. Most of the big guys she knows enough that they speak to her if they see her out and what not. I've got close to a grand in graduation money out of cards they've sent. One fifty from the CEO, hundred from the head of this mine, bunch of fifty dollar checks from various Veeps, foremen, managers, coworkers, and more will likely trickle in yet."

She seemed confused by the looks she was getting and was on the verge of blaming it on her reasoning going off on a tangent, before realizing exactly what she said. "I, uh, think one of them will be at the party tomorrow and one or two will probably send a card home with Ma yet."

Eliot said what most of them were thinking. "That's still a lot of money for the bigwigs to shell out on an employee's kid."

Billy ducked her head and refused to look at any of them. "Well, there's also the sort of open secret that I'm the Vice President for Transportation's bastard. One of them. Can't leave Joes out. Of course, she's the one that was born _before_ he was seein' his future wife. Trust me, more people know Ma and Cal waited out an hour long rain delay at a Fourth of July thing at the gun club in one of the storage buildings than I'd like. I was born at the end of March. Just about any idiot can count. Folks just pretend they don't know." She still wasn't making eye contact.

"He's the one you suspect might drop in tomorrow." Sophie was quick to make the connection.

Billy nodded. "He plays the part when no one will take notice, since there isn't a tie on paper. I didn't know for years myself. He was just Ma's friend that paid me some extra attention. A piece of candy here. Helping me reach the snack table at parties. Slipping me a few bucks at a carnival. He, um, volunteered to play Santa at the Christmas party my first Christmas. There's a picture. I remember him settin' me up on the pony at the circus. Not like I didn't have a pony at home, but I think he wanted me to do it.

"Ma took me and we ran into him and their oldest Tracy. Dana was home with baby Mitch. It was muddy, but Ma couldn't lift me to carry me anymore. She took Tracy and he carried me. I was barely five." Her eyes got distant at the old memory.

"He's hidin' it from his other family." Eliot was a little annoyed.

"No." Billy was quick. "It's one of those things folks know, but don't talk about, remember? Besides, I look too much like Cal. Five kids and I'm the only one that really looks much like him. Dana knows. Not sure if their kids do. They're all younger than me and Sis."

"But you're both his." Sophie took in the comment and started working out the implications.

"Yeah. Ma wanted a kid and they were friends. He wasn't attached and, well..."

"He helped her out." Sophie provided.

Billy nodded. "When Ma decided she wanted another one, he was just out of a broken engagement and agreed. Not long after, Dana came back and they got married. Everyone just went along with their lives and ours tend to touch once in a while." She shrugged. "Well, I'd best be gettin' home. You know how to reach me and I'll be back later to get the foldin' tables and chairs out of the shed. I'll set them out in the rain for now and they'll just need a wipe down for tomorrow." She still didn't make eye contact as she headed for the door. "I'll leave you to whatever you were or _weren't_ doin' when I got here. If you find somethin' of mine, I'll get it sometime."

"You ain't movin' foldin' tables by yourself." Eliot checked on his food and followed her out the back. She shook her head, but said nothing. She must have had...and lost... this argument before.

Knowing now that there was a child involved, Sophie was even more grateful that Billy seemed a little more relaxed. This was not a time for excess stress. Recalling the way the girl had been so overwrought just a few nights ago, it was far better motivation than a soak in the tub to solve the puzzle that was Brent Haywood. When he was in jail along with all of his little cohorts, Billy would be free to worry about juggling a newborn and classes just like any other knocked-up college freshman.

The grifter let herself smile as she retook her seat beside Hardison. Billy wasn't exactly inclined to have a stress free life, but she certainly seemed to enjoy the chaos at times.

Hardison nodded to both women and pulled the map up again, zooming in as much as he could on their smaller search area. "I think we can cross off this little strip mall thing by the park. Too much traffic and it all looks clean."

Parker reclaimed her spot on the table. "They can't use factories or big stores for cover either. Too many people." The thief leaned over the back of the computer to see the screen.

"Right. You can't hide a meth lab at Wal-Mart." Hardison adjusted his map again. "We eliminated the park and that's a big chunk. Do you think there's anyway that they could be slipping onto the mine's land?"

Parker shook her head. "They have an electric fence and the gates are monitored, plus they have three shifts. Too hard to get anything illegal in or out in enough volume to make it worth it. There isn't just isn't a place to hide anything there."

Hardison hit some keys and a good sized portion faded. _It was something, but was it enough? _

Parker looked at the map again. "Did you cross here off? We know there's nothing going on here. Those boys wouldn't have risked the police anyway if there was anything nearby."

"Woman, you are a geeen-yuuus." The hacker looked at the two of them. "We can use the list of guys that we know are involved to eliminate certain areas. They won't cause trouble too close to where anything important is like their operations."

Sophie nodded, understanding where he was going with this. "If you plot the location of each crime that was swept under the rug, you can work outward from each out those points. Whatever is close to that has a good chance of being eliminated." The optimism she felt at this new course of action flagged when the map was quickly speckled with orange dots. A respectable chuck of the map faded at the same time. _My, I didn't realize just how big this place is._

"Can you make the traffic stops green?" Parker was leaning over the back again. "I bet they've made practice runs of their delivery routes looking for speed traps and stuff. I would."

"Okay. Let me...there we are. We're figure this out." Hardison was making the necessary adjustments at a furious pace. "I'll make sure Nate gets a copy of this. Maybe he'll see something we've missed."

"Good." Sophie rose to fix another cup of tea before Eliot returned. "I want this one."

"Preach it, sister, preach it." The sound of Hardison's keyboard, while comforting to her, should be enough to make Haywood tremble if he knew. _Like the French hearing bagpipes at Waterloo._

_**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**_

Eliot hurried back into the house and went straight for the kitchen. He hadn't expected it to take so long and he needed to check his roast. The three questioning looks he received told him they weren't expecting it to take so long either.

"I figured she meant a couple tables, half a dozen tops. I didn't expect half an event rental to dig through to find the ones her ma wanted. Once we rolled the foldin' chair racks outside, there were still two dozen foldin' tables in a pile to hunt through. It's like the back room at a church hall or VFW. First time I've seen a family with that kind of supply. I did score us a couple card tables and four more chairs. I left 'em propped against the porch. I'll bring it in after we eat. Nothin's been used since Labor Day. Everything is dusty. What have we got?" He came to lean over the back of Hardison's chair.

Sophie gestured at the screen. "We eliminated several high traffic areas as being too prone to exposure. The mine is out for the same reason, plus the security doesn't make it feasible. We also crossed here off. There's no way Billy wouldn't be alerted or that those hooligans wouldn't have dared do something that could bring the police out here. That got us thinking..."

Parker looked up from her paper map and took the pen from her mouth. "Even knowing that they aren't going to jail, they aren't going to do anything that's going to draw cops to something too hard to cover up. I'm looking at the traffic stops to see if I can find a pattern. If I can find a route or part of one, we might be able to us that figure out where they were coming or going from."

"Nice thinkin' on both points." He had worked through the reasoning for himself and it seemed promising. "They count on that protection. They aren't gonna risk it if they're smart." He froze as he had a thought. "What about the ones that aren't smart?"

"You think we could have eliminated something we shouldn't have." Sophie looked critically at the screen.

"No," he looked at Hardison meaningfully.

"What you thinking, man?" The younger man met his gaze.

"Remember the guys we ruled out, because they did time recently or were in jail and we figured they weren't being protected."

Hardison looked at him a minute. "You're thinking they broke the rules and got caught too close to home. Haywood would have made the dangerous crime go away, but all bets would be off afterward. He'd make an example of them."

"Exactly. If we go back and look at the last couple of favors, we can use where they were picked up to narrow down where we need to look for somethin'." Eliot leaned closer as Hardison pulled up the list of discards. "Traffic citations wouldn't be serious enough to get black balled.

"Unless they were moving something they shouldn't get caught moving." Parker never looked up from the map.

"You're right. Traffic stops stay." Eliot nodded. Parker would be the one most qualified to give advise on the moving of something you don't want cops finding. He left their command center to go back to the kitchen and continue with their meal. It was time to cut up vegetables to add to the roast. Enough juice had cooked out to keep them from drying out as they cooked. He'd make some rolls and the meal would nearly be complete.

"Anyone want to make requests for the menu? I think I'll try that farmer's market tomorrow and pick up a few things myself. I don't want to put all our supplies on Billy. We've already asked enough of her." He dumped the vegetables into the pan around the roast and turned his attention to the rolls.

"If I didn't know you so well, I'd be shocked at how calm you two after today's little incident. Even if it wasn't serious, I'm still a little on edge." Sophie commented from beside Hardison.

He couldn't help, but laugh. "I figured we'd run into people during recon. I just expected the gun and pipe crowd." He started kneading dough and gave the two that had stayed behind the play by play of just what had happened.

_He was a little surprised that they hadn't run into anyone as they searched for illegal pursuits. Hardison had an infrared scanner in the van and they checked each place for people and other heat sources and they hadn't found anyone yet. When they got to the storage complex and didn't see any __cars other than one at the small office, they hadn't bothered with it much._

_ It was only when they came around to a unit in the rear and heard sounds that things got dicey._

_ They heard voices and impacts inside and braced themselves as they carefully got down to peek under the edge of the door as they gently eased it up._

_ Even they were shocked. They froze a moment trying to decide what to do when they were caught. They got lucky when the scream didn't bring the manager. As it was, the door slid up as they fell back._

_ Inside two teenagers scrambled for clothes and blankets. The son of a deacon had used the sofabed stored in his parent's storage unit along side his dad's fishing boat to make a love nest. Both pairs were shocked and eyed one another for long moment._

_ Eliot tried to take the lead. He needed to get ahead of it and who knows what Parker would do. "Good Lord, I thought somethin' had fallen on someone. We was tourin' the place, lookin' at a couple units, maybe rent one, and heard y'all." He had waved a scrap of paper as if he actually had a list the manager had scribbled out for him to pick from. He had backed away and closed the door._

_ The two had worked quickly after that, keeping an eye out for the love birds as they checked the last of the units. They were leaving at the same time the pair were being picked up by a pair of friends, another couple. _

_ "Glad there wasn't an accident." Eliot smiled as he looked meaningfully at the boy. The boy nodded and climbed in the van. _

_ Parker wasn't anywhere near subtle with her parting comment. "Accidents make people." Two pronounced sighs came through the comms. "Well, they do."_

Placing the rolls in the warm oven as he moved the roast out to rest before they ate, he wandered back to the bank of computers.

"With everything we have goin' on, catching a pair of teenagers goin' at it is a kind of excitement I can live with." He studied the map on the screen and the one Parker had in her lap. "The park is a huge obstacle. It limits the routes crossin' the county that don't take you through the park and outside Haywood's jurisdiction. A lot of the locals buy a park pass just so they can cut through. I saw one on Billy's car. To avoid the risk of getting picked up in the park, there is a limited number of paths they can take to bypass it. Anything moving between the east side of the county and Lexington would have to be transported along one of those paths." He looked over to see Parker as she readjusted her map.

"That really cuts down the number of unique routes they can use. If we start with the chop shop and end with the shortest routes to Lexington, then they have to be using these routes to bring in the cars." They all stared as she started rattling off the routes.

"What?" The blonde stared back at them after a minute.

"Maybe you should just write them down." Sophie handed her a notepad.

Eliot wasn't sure what they could do with that information right now, but it was something. If they needed it, they'd have it. He'd take anything at this point. He got up to get the rolls out and set the roast back in along side the cobbler to warm and started setting the table.

"I'll take that wonderful smell and the sound of silverware as hints to take a break." Sophie made her way over to him and started on a fresh cup of tea.

"I'm sending this to Nate. The sooner he gets it, the sooner we'll hear back." Hardison did something on his keyboard, then grabbed his bottle of soda, and came to the table.

Eliot was as annoyed at Parker for not making a move to the table as he was surprised that it bothered him. He had a new kind of sympathy for his grandmother when she'd had to bully and prod the men away from the television on Thanksgiving. The fact that part of him saw this as a family dinner was not overlooked.

It made sense. Brothers-in-arms was a concept he understood better than most. This crew was a tight as any unit he'd worked with and they had to rely on each other for more. They'd come through for him when it counted and whatever feelings he still had towards Sophie for conning them once had been left behind when she'd blew in like the cavalry to get them and they'd gotten out of there by the route she'd opened to them. It was Nate he was angry at now.

Well if he was honest with himself, and he tried to be, he was mostly hurt. He understood that Nate had made a command decision to sacrifice himself for the good of the unit. He was a military man after all. He understood that it was the job of the soldier to fight and the officer to make sure the maximum number of his men survived to fight again.

One of his instructors during his officer training bought kosher wine and made a toast to Shimon Alfasi, the Israeli commander who defended Kastel in the late 1940's. He'd died in the battle after ordering the privates to retreat and the officers of all ranks to provide them with cover when they'd run out of supplies. He'd accepted the responsibility for the situation by making it his responsibility to get them out of it.

What bothered Eliot is that Nate thought he needed to make that call. He hadn't trusted them to get out of there and take him with them. Sure things would have been complicated by his injuries, but they could have managed. Eliot had some contacts, some supply caches, and the training to tend to trauma injuries.

Sterling would be closer behind them, though, and they wouldn't have Nate on the inside feeding them information and messing with Sterling. They probably wouldn't have ended up here either and they were doing some good out here. They'd work with what they had and do the best they could.

"Food's ready, Parker. Come eat and we'll go back to work when we're done." He nudged the thief with the back of his hand and ducked out of the way as she did a flip off the table and onto the floor.

"I've missed your meals, Eliot." Sophie caught his eye over the table and he heard what she didn't say. _I missed you._ "I wouldn't mind chicken or fish or lamb. Ooh, lamb. I love the smell of lamb. There is this little place near the market in Tashkent...", and she was off on one of her stories.

Despite the words he'd told Parker, his mind refused to leave the job, either of them. They had this con they were working, but they would have to start figuring out how they were going to get Nate back and set up the groundwork he would need to avoid getting caught.

He'd have to talk to Hardison about some new identities for all of them. They had several apiece with them, but they would probably need additional ones before this all played out. He also thought over the food they had, what he could get in the garden, and what he'd like to find when he went out foraging tomorrow.

The others were certainly enjoying the meal. He wouldn't have many leftovers, but that was fine. Hardison would take care of them like he usually did. He ate anything that wasn't tied down. Eliot tried to figure out meals that worked with their schedule, that were flexible and let them eat on the go, but threw in a few like this where they could stop and take a break.

"I'm thinking I covered all my bases with sound and video pickups on the van. Any of y'all think of something else?" Hardison was going on about cameras and microphones. Eliot tuned him out. He trusted the guy to know his job and that was all that mattered.

"How about an ejection seat like in that movie or a death ray or...or." Parker was a little too enthusiastic about that last one.

"Have you been lettin' her watch James Bond again?" Eliot fixed Hardison with a look. The thief either nitpicked things apart or fixated on the gadgets every time. The obvious favorites were Goldfinger and Diamonds are Forever.

"Naw, man, I swear." The other man held his hands up in surrender. It had been weird for days afterward the last time and no one wanted a repeat.

Eliot stood, cleared his spot, and picked up a few extra dishes along the way. Hardison was still eating and Parker was still wanting to booby trap the van. He wasn't surprised when Sophie joined him and left Hardison to try to explain to Parker why mounting a giant saw blade that could pop out on command was a bad idea.

"That was a lovely meal and we all needed a break. Thank you." She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

He just nodded. When he turned to the sink and looked out the window, he was jolted by what he saw. Billy had managed to slip back with a trailer and was loading the tables and chair racks on it. She was nearly finished and he'd failed to notice over the sound of the rain and the fog reduced visibility. He ran out instantly and was immediately drenched. To make matters worse, all that was left was putting the ramps back up and they were in place by the time he got there.

"What?" Billy was yelling over the rain, but volume didn't disguise the annoyed tone in her voice. She ducked her head momentarily, letting the brim of her baseball cap cover her face as the wind drove the rain into a pounding wave. Eliot closed his eyes and raised his arm. "I need to get this over to my cousin's. He's seein' to the settin' up. You need to go dry off." She was a little smug. Not only had she ducked him, but he was soaked to the skin while the rain streamed off her rain gear in tiny rivers. "Now go on. I've got to feed yet and have supper." She shoved him a little and headed for the truck.

Eliot paused under the shelter of the back porch to watch her go and take off his soaked shirt, wringing it out before going in to change.

He stalked upstairs for dry clothes and ignored the others on his way to shower. It was only when the hot water poured over him that he realized how cold he'd gotten, even if it was early June. He'd rushed out, unthinking, when there was nothing left to do and all he'd gotten was drenched. Billy was dry and snug, well prepared for working in this kind of weather. An insulated sweatshirt under the well made rain gear kept the chill at bay and the coat hung over the pants that fastened over the tops of the boots. Gloves on the hands and a baseball cap treated with waterproofing kept the rain and wind outside the little cocoon, leaving its occupant content and her occupant oblivious to the storm at all.

He tossed the wet clothes and damp towel in the hamper and stalked into the main room, daring anyone to say anything. "Any ideas?" If they focused on the job, maybe they'd forget this.

"Actually, yes." Sophie offered him a confident nod. "We're going to hit him when it hurts most, his reputation."

They all nodded at that.

"He works too hard to keep everything separate. I think we just need to let things collide and that should be enough. We just need the right wrecking ball."


End file.
